
4 






L' .i 





■mumm 

■J > A 

V «Bee ! dear, dear Bee !* he said, putting his arms 
around her.” 

Frontispiece — Page 




- ’ 



Self-Raised 


SELF-RAISED 


OR 


FROM THE DEPTHS 


m 


MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTH WORTH 

Author of “Ishmael,” “The Hidden Hand,’* 

^ “The Changed Brides,” etc., etc., etc. 

I 



I 


I 

I 






Illustrated by CLARE A N G E L L 


^ R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 

9 AND II East i6th St. :: New York 




LWRRRY nf 00R6RESS 
TVroOoDtes Received 

AUG 16 1904 

S 1(ht Entry 

itxXc. Noi 

0(x 0 I b 

^ COPY B 


Copyright, 1904 
By R. F. Fenno & Company 








■ • 'j ' 1 


CONTENTS. 


Recovery, 

Herman and Ishmael, . 

Father and Son, . 

Bee, 

Second Love, . 

At Woodside, 

At Tanglewood, 

Why Claudia was Alone, 
Holiday, 

Ishmael at Brudenell, 

The Professor of Odd Jobs 
The Journey, 

Lady Vincent’s Reception, 
Romance and Reality, 

Castle Cragg, 

Faustina, 

The Plot against Claudia, 

In the Traitor’s Toils, 
Claudia’s Troubles and Perils, 
A Link in Claudia’s Fate, 

News for Ishmael, 

Ishmael’s Visit to Bee, 
Hannah’s Happy Prognostics 
The Journey, 

The Voyage, 

The Storm, 

The Wreck, 

A Discovery, 

A Deep One, 

A Night of Horror 
The Castle Vault, 

The End of Claudia’s Pride 

m 


PAOB 

1 

7 

13 

21 

31 

37 

47 

62 

58 

63 

66 

73 

83 

93 

104 

108 

112 

121 

129 

136 

148 

157 

16'i 

P.3 

183 

188 

195 

206 

217 

325 

341 

261 


V 


i ' ■ ' 

1 ■' ■ 

IV CONTENTS. 

! CHAPTER PAGE 

XXXIII. The Countess op Hurstmonceux, . . . 259 

XXXIV. The Rescue 273 

XXXV. A Father’s Vengeance 283 

XXXVI. On the Viscount’s Track, 296 

XXXVII. Still on the Track 306 

XXXVIII. Claudia at Cameron Court, .... 317 

XXXIX. Suspense 327 

XL. Father and Daughter, 333 

XLI. Arrest op Lord Vincent and Faustina, . . 345 

XLII. A Bitter Night, 357 

XLIII. Fruits op Crime, 367 

XLIV. Nemesis, 378 

XLV. The Viscount’s Fall 392 

XLVI. The Fate op the Viscount, .... 399 

XLVII. The Execution, 410 

XLVIII. News for Claudia, 419 

XLIX. The Fate op Faustina, 433 

L. Lady Hurstmonceux’s Revelation, . . . 439 

LI. Ishmael’s Errand, ...... 449 

LII. The Meeting op the Severed Pair, . . . 466 

LIII. Home Again, 475 

LIV. Which is the Bride? 486 

LV. Conclusion, 494 


SELF-RAISED; 

OR, 

«FEOM THE DEPTHS” 


CHAPTER 1. 


RECOVERY. 

Something I know. Oft, shall it come about 
When every heart is full of hope for man, 

The horizon straight is darkened, and a doubt 
Clouds all. The work the youth so well began 
Wastes down, and by some deed of shame is finished. 

Ah, yet we will not be dismayed: 

What seemed the ti-iumpli of t^ Fiend at length 
Might be the effort of some dying devil. 

Permitted to put forth his fullest strength 
To loose it all forever ! 

— Owen MeredUh, 

Awful as the an^ish of his parting with Claudia had been, it 
was not likely that Ishmael, with his strength of intellect and 
will, would long succumb to despair. It was not in Claudia’s 
power to make his life quite desolate; how could it be so while 
Bee cared for him? 

Bee had loved Ishmael as long as Ishmael had loved Claudia. 
She had loved him when he was a boy at school ; when he was a 
young country teacher; when he was a law-student; and she 
loved him now that he was a successful barrister. This love, 
founded in esteem and honor, had constantly deepened and 
strengthened. In loving Ishmael, she found mental and spirit- 
ual development; and in being near him and doing him good 
she found comfort and happiness. And being perfectly satis- 
fied with the present. Bee never gave a thought to the future. 
That she tacitly left, where it belongs, to God. 

Or if at times, on perceiving Ishmael’s utter obliviousness 
of her own kindly presence and his perfect devotion to the 


2 selF'KAised; oe, from the depths. 

thankless Claudia, Bee felt a pang, she went and buried herself 
with domestic duties, or played with the children in the nursery, 
or what was better still, if it happened to be little Lu’s “ sleepy 
time” she would take her baby-sister up to her own room, sit 
down and fold her to her breast and rock and sing her to sleep. 
And certainly the clasp of those baby-arms about her neck, and 
the nestling of that baby-form to her bosom, drew out all the 
heart-ache and soothed all the agitation. 

Except these little occasional pangs Bee had always been 
blessed in loving. Her love, all unrequited, as it seemed, was 
still the sweetest thing in the world to her ; and it seemed thus, 
because in fact it was so well approved by her mind and so 
entirely unselfish. It seemed to be her life, or her soul, or one 
with both; Bee was not metaphysical enough to decide which. 

She would not struggle with this love, or try to conquer it, 
any more than she would have striven against and tried to 
destroy her mental and spiritual life. On the contrary she 
cherished it as she did her religion, of which it was a part; 
she cherished it as she did her love of God, with which it was 
united. 

And loving Ishmael in this way, if she should fail to marry 
him. Bee resolved never to marry another; but to live and die 
a maiden; still cherishing, still hiding this most precious love 
in her heart as a miser hides his gold. Whether benign nature 
would have permitted the motherly little maiden to have carried 
out this resolution, I do not know; or what Bee would have 
done in the event of IshmaePs mariying another, she did not 
know. 

When Claudia went away. Bee, in the midst of her regret 
at parting with her cousin, felt a certain sense of relief: but 
when she saw the effect of that departure upon Ishmael she 
became alarmed for him; and after the terrible experiences of 
that day and night Bee’s one single thought in life was — Ish- 
mael’s good. 

On the morning succeeding that dreadful day and night, 
Ishmael awoke early, in full possession of his faculties. He re- 
membered all the incidents of that trying day and night; 
reflected upon their effects; and prayed to God to deliver him 
from the burden and guilt of inordinate and sinful affections. 

Then he arose, made his toilet, read a portion of the Scrip- 
tures, offered up his morning prayers, and went below stairs. 

In the breakfast parlor he found B. the bus^' little hou^-2* 


KECOVEEY. 3 

keeper, fluttering softly around the breakfast table, and adding 
a few finishing touches to its simple elegance. 

Very fair, fresh, and blooming looked Bee in her pale golden 
ringlets and her pretty morning dress of white muslin with 
blue ribbons. There was no one else in the room; but Bee 
advanced and held out her hand to him. 

He took her hand, and retaining it in his own for a moment, 
said : 

“ Oh, Bee ! yesterday, last night ! ” 

‘^‘Upbraid not the past; it comes not back again.’ Ishmael! 
bury it ; forget it ; and press onward ! ” replied Bee sweetly and 
solemnly. 

He raised her hand with the impulse to carry it to his lips; 
but refraining, bowed his forehead over it instead, and then 
gently released it. For Ishmael’s affection for Bee was rever- 
ential. To him she appeared saintly, Madonna-like, almost 
angelic. 

“ Let me make breakfast for you at once, Ishmael. It is not 
of the least use to wait for the others. Mamma, I know, is 
not awake yet, and none of the gentlemen have rung for their 
hot water.” 

And you. Bee ; you will also breakfast now ? ” 

Certainly.” 

And she rang and gave her orders. And the coffee, muffins, 
fried fresh perch, and broiled spring chickens speedily made 
their appearance. 

Jim,” she said to the waiter who set the breakfast on the 
table, “ tell cook to keep ^ome of the perch and pullets dressed 
to put over the fire the moment she hears the judge’s bell ring, 
so that his breakfast may be ready for him when he comes 
down.” 

Very well, miss,” answered Jim, who immediately left the 
room to give the order; but soon returned to attend upon the 
table. 

So it was a tete-a-tete meal, but Bee made it very pleasant. 
After breakfast Ishmael left Bee to her domestic duties and 
went up into the office to look after the letters and papers that 
had been left, for him by the penny postman that morning. 

He glanced over the newspapers ; read the letters ; selected 
those he would need during the day; put the others carefully 
away; tied up his documents; took up his hat and gloves, and 
eet out for his daily business at the City Hall. 


4 


SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS, 

In the ante-chamber of the Orphans’ Court Koom he met 
old Wiseman, who clapped him on the shoulder, exclaiming: 

“ How are you this morning, old fellow ? All right, eh ? ” 

“ Thank you, I am quite well again,” replied Ishmael. 

“ Ah ha ! nothing like good brandy to get one up out of a fit of 
exhaustion.” 

“Ah ! ” exclaimed Ishmael, with a shudder. 

“ Well, and have you thought over what we were talking 
of yesterday ? ” 

“It was ” Ishmael began, and then hesitated. 

“ It was about your going into partnership with me.” 

Oh, yes ! so it was ! but I have not had time to think of it 
yet.” 

“Well, think over it to-day, will you, and then after the 
court has adjourned come to my chambers and talk the matter 
over with me. Will you?” 

“ Thank you, yes, certainly.” 

“Ah, well! I will not keep you any longer, for I see that 
you are in a hurry.” 

“It is because I have an appointment at ten,” said Ishmael 
courteously. 

“ Certainly ; and appointments must be kept. Good- 
morning.” 

“ Good-morning, Mr. Wiseman.” 

“ Mind, you are to come to my chambers after the court has 
adjourned.” 

“I will remember and come,” said Ishmael. 

And each went his way. 

Ishmael had not yet seriously thought of Lawyer Wiseman’s 
proposal. This forenoon, however, in the intervals of his pro- 
fessional business, he reflected on it. 

The proposed partnership was unquestionably a highly ad- 
vantageous one, in a worldly point of view. Lawyer Wiseman 
was undoubtedly the best lawyer and commanded the largest 
practice at the Washington bar, with one single exception — 
that of the brilliant young barrister whom he proposed to asso- 
ciate with himself. Together, they would be invincible, carry- 
ing everything before them; and Ishmael’s fortune would be 
rapidly made. 

So far the offer was a very tempting one; yet the more Ish- 
mael reflected on it the more determined he became to re- 
fuse it; because, in fact, his conscience would not permit him 


RECOVERY. 


5 


to enter into partnership with Lawyer Wiseman, for the fol- 
lowing reasons: Lawyer Wiseman, a man of unimpeachable 
integrity in his private life, declined to carry moral responsi- 
bility into his professional business. He was indiscriminate in 
his acceptation of briefs. It mattered not whether the case 
presented to him was a case of injustice, cruelty, or oppression, 
so that it was a case for law, with a v/ealthy client to back it. 
The only question with Lawyer Wiseman being the amount of 
the retaining fee. If his client liberally anointed Lawyer 
Wisemen’s eyes with golden ointment, Lawyer Wiseman would 
undertake to see and make the judge and jury see anything 
and everything that his client wished! With such a man as 
this, therefore, whatever the professional advantages of the 
association might be, Ishmael could not enter into partnership. 

And so when the court had adjourned Ishmael walked over 
to the chambers of Mr. Wiseman on Louisiana Avenue, and in. 
an interview with the old lawyer courteously declined his offer. 

This considerably astonished Mr. Wiseman, who pressed 
Ishmael for the reasons of his strange refusal. 

And Ishmael, being urged, at length candidly confessed 
them. 

* Instead of being angry, as might have been expected, the 
old lawyer was simply amused. He laughed at his young 
friend’s scruples, and assured him that experience would cure 
them. And the interview having been brought to a close, they 
shook hands and parted amicably. 

Ishmael hurried home to dine and spend the evening with 
the family. 

On the Monday following, at the order of Judge Merlin, prep- 
arations were commenced for shutting up the town house and 
leaving Washington for Tanglewood; for the judge swore that, 
let anyone whatever get married, or christened, stay in the city 
another week he could not, without decomposing, for that his 
soul had already left his body and preceded him to Tangle- 
wood, whither he must immediately follow it. 

Oh, but Bee had plenty of work to look after that week — 
the packing up of all the children’s clothes, and of all the house- 
hold effects — such as silver plate, cut-glass, fine china, cutlery, 
etc., that were to be sent forward to Tanglewood. 

She would have had to overlook the packing of the books 
also, but that Ishmael insisted on relieving her of that task, by 
doing it all with his own hands, as indeed he preferred to do it. 


6 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

for his love of books was almost — tender. It was curious to 
see him carefully straighten the leaves and brush the cover 
and edges of an old book, as conscientiously as he would have 
doctored a hurt child. They were friends and he was fond of 
them. 

Ishmael continued steadily in the performance of all his 
duties, yet that he was still suffering very much might be ob- 
served in the abiding paleness and wasting thinness of his 
face, and in a certain languor and weariness in all his move- 
ments. 

Bee in the midst of her multifarious cares did not forget 
his interests; she took pains to have his favorite dishes appear 
on the table in order to tempt him to take food. But, observing 
that he still ate little or nothing, while he daily lost flesh, she 
took an opportunity of saying to him in the library: 

“Ishmael, you know I am a right good little doctress; I 
have had so much experience in nursing father and mother and 
the children; so I know what I am talking about, when I 
tell you that you need a tonic.” 

“ Oh, Bee ! if you did but really know, little sister ! ” 

“ I do know, Ishmael, I know it all ! ” she said gently. 

“ ^ Out of the heart are the issues of life ! ' Bee, mine has 
received a paralyzing blow.” 

“ I know it, dear Ishmael ; I know it ; but let your great mind 
sustain that stricken heart until it recovers the blow. And in 
the meantime try to get up your strength. You must have more 
food and more rest, and in order to secure them you must take 
a tonic in the morning to give you an appetite, and a sedative 
at night to give you sleep. That was the way we saved mamma 
after little Mary died, or, indeed, I think she would have fol- 
lowed her.” 

Ishmael smiled a very wan smile as he answered : 

“ Indeed, I am ashamed of this utter weakness. Bee.” 

“Why should you be? Has Providence given you any im- 
munity from the common lot? We must take our human nature 
as it is given to us and do the best we can with it, I think.” 

“ What a wise little woman you are. Bee.” 

“ That’s because I have got a good memory. The wisdom 
was second-handed, Ishmael, being just what I heard you your- 
self say when you were defending Featherstonehaugh: 

“ ‘ There’s nothing original in me 
Excepting original sin.’ 


HERMAN AND ISHMAEL. 


7 


Ishmael smiled. 

“ And, now, will you follow my advice ? ” 

“To the letter, dear Bee, whenever you are so good as to ad- 
vise me. Ah, Bee, you seem to comprise in yourself all that 
that I have missed of family affection, and to compensate me 
for the unknown love of her mother, sister, friend.” 

“ Do I, Ishmael ? Oh, I wish that I really did ! ” said Bee 
impulsively; and then she blushed deeply at suddenly appre- 
hending the construction that might be put upon her words. 

But Ishmael answered those words in the spirit in which 
they were uttered : 

“ Believe me, dearest Bee, you do. If I never feel the want 
of home affections it is because I have them all in you. My 
heart finds rest in you. Bee. But oh, little sister, what can I 
ever render to you for all the good you have done me from my 
childhood up ? ” 

“Render yourself good and wise and great, Ishmael, and I 
shall be sufficiently happy in watching your upward progress,” 
said Bee. 

And quietly putting down on the table a bunch of grapes that 
she had brought, she withdrew from the office. 


CHAPTER n. 

HERMAN AND ISHMAEL. 


With a deep groan he cried— “ Oh, gifted one, 
I am thy father! Hate me not, my son! ” 

— Anon. 

Nor are my mother’s wrongs forgot; 

Her slighted love and ruined name, 

Her offspring’s heritage of shame, 

Shall witness for thee from the dead 
How trusty and how tender were 
Thy youthful love — paternal care! 

— Byron. 


Her exit was almost immediately followed by the entrance of 
Mr. Brudenell. He also had noticed Ishmael’s condition, and 
attributed it to overwork, and to the want of rest, with change 
of air. He was preparing to leave Washington for Brudenell 
Hall. He was going a few days in advance of Judge Merlin 


8 self-kaised; oe, feom the depths. 

and the Middletons, and he intended to invite Ishmael to ac- 
company him, or to come after him, and make a visit to Bru- 
denell. He earnestly desired to have Ishmael there to himself 
for a week or two. It was with this desire that he now entered 
the library. 

Ishmael arose from his packing, and, smiling a welcome, set a 
chair for his visitor. 

“You are not looking well, Mr. Worth,” said Herman Bru- 
denell, as he took the offered seat. 

“ I am not well just at present, but I shall be so in a day or 
two,” returned Ishmael. 

“Not if you continue the course you are pursuing now, my 
young friend. You require rest and change of air. I shall 
leave Washington for Brudenell Hall on Thursday morning. 
It would give me great pleasure if you would accompany me 
thither, and remain my guest for a few weeks, to recruit 
your health. The place is noted for its salubrity; and though 
the house has been dismantled, and has remained vacant for 
some time, yet I hope we will find it fitted up comfortably 
again; for I have written down to an upholsterer of Baymouth 
to send in some furniture, and I have also written to a certain 
genius of all trades, called the ^professor,’ to go over and see 
it all arranged, and do what else is needed to be done for our 
reception.” 

Ishmael smiled when he heard the name of the professor; 
but before he could make any comment, Mr. Brudenell in- 
quired : 

“What do you say, Mr. Worth? Will you accompany me 
thither, or will you come after me ? ” 

“I thank you very much, Mr. Brudenell. I should like to 
visit Brudenell Hall; but ” 

“ Then you will come ? I am very glad ! I shall be alone 
there with my servants, you know, and your society will be 
a god-send to me. Had you not better go down at once when 
I do? I go by land, in a hired carriage. The carriage is very 
comfortable; and we can make the journey in two days, and 
lay by during the heat of both days. I think the trip will be 
pleasant. We can reach Brudenell Hall on Friday night, and 
have a good rest before Sunday, when we can go to the old 
country church, where you will be likely to meet the faces of 
some of your old friends. I think we shall be very comfortable, 
keeping bachelor-hall together at Brudenell Hall this summer, 


HERMAN AND ISHMAEL. 


9 


Hr. Worth,” said Herman Brudenell, who longed more than 
tongue could tell to have NTora’s son at home with him, though 
it might be only for a short time. 

“ I feel your kindness very much indeed, Mr. Brudenell ; and 
I should be very, very happy to accept your hospitable invita- 
tion; but — I was about to say, it really is quite impossible 
in the existing state of my business for me to go anywhere at 
present,” said Ishmael courteously. 

“ Indeed ? I am very sorry for that. But the reasons you 
give are unanswerable, I know. I am seriously disappointed. 
Yet I trust, though you may not be able to come just at pres- 
ent, you will follow me down there after a little while — say in 
the course of a few days or weeks — for I shall remain at the 
hall all summer and shall be always delighted to receive you. 
Will you promise to come?” 

“ Indeed, I fear I cannot promise that either, for I have a 
very great pressure of business; but if I can possibly manage 
to go, without infringing upon my duties, I shall be grateful 
for the privilege and very happy to avail myself of it; for — do 
you know, sir? — I was born in that neighborhood and passed 
my childhood and youth there. I love the old place, and almost 
long to see the old hut where I lived, and the hall where I went 
to school, and the wooded valley that lies between them, where 
I gathered wild-flowers and fruits in summer and nuts in win- 
ter, and — my mother’s grave,” said the unconscious son, speak- 
ing confidentially, and looking straight into his father’s eyes. 

Ishmael,” said Herman Brudenell, in a faltering voice, and 
forgetting to be formal, ^^you must come to me: that grave 
should draw you, if nothing else ; it is a pious pilgrimage when 
a son goes to visit his mother’s grave.” 

There was something in this new friend’s words, look, and 
manner that always drew out the young man’s confidence, and 
he said, in a voice trembling with emotion : 

“ She died young, sir ; and oh ! so sorrowfully ! She was only 
nineteen, two years younger than I am now; and her son was 
motherless the hour he was born.” 

Violent emotion shook the frame of Herman Brudenell. He 
had not entered the room with any intention of making a dis- 
closure to Ishmael ; but he felt now that — come life, come death, 
come whatever might of it — he must claim Hora’s son. 

“Ishmael,” he began, in a voice shaken with agitation, “I 
knew your mother.” 


10 SELF-EAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

You, sir! ” exclaimed the young man in surprise. 

“Yes, I knew her and her sister, naturally, for they were 
tenants of mine.” 

“ I knew that they lived on the outskirts of the Brudenell 
estate; but I did not know you were personally acquainted with 
them, sir; for I thought that you had resided generally in 
Europe.” 

“Not all the time; I was at Brudenell Hall when — ^you were 
horn and your mother went to heaven, Ishmael.” 

Some of the elder man’s agitation communicated itself to the 
younger, who half arose from his seat and looked intently at 
the speaker. 

“I knew your mother in those days, Ishmael. She was not 
only one of the most beautiful women of her day, but one of 
the purest, noblest, and best.” 

Herman Brudenell hesitated. And Ishmael, who had dropped 
again into his seat, bent eagerly forward, holding his breath 
while he listened. 

Herman continued. 

“You resemble her in person and character, Ishmael. All 
that is best and noblest and most attractive in you, Ishmael, 
is derived under Divine Providence from your mother.” 

“ I know it 1 Oh, I know it I ” 

“ And, Ishmael, I loved your mother ! ” 

“ Oh, Heaven ! ” breathed the young man, in sickening, deadly 
apprehension; for well he remembered that this Mr. Herman 
Brudenell was the husband of the Countess of Hurstmonceux 
at the very time of which he now spoke. 

“ Ishmael, do not look so cruelly distressed. I loved her, she 
loved me in return, she crowned my days with joy, and ” 

A gasping sound of suddenly suspended breath from Ishmael. 

“I made her my wife,” continued Herman Brudenell, in a 
grave and earnest voice. 

“ It was you then 1 ” cried Ishmael, shaking with agitation. 

“ It was I!” 

Silence like a pall fell between them. 

“ Oh, Ishmael 1 my son I my son 1 speak to me ! give me your 
hand 1 ” groaned Herman Brudenell. 

“She was your wife! Yet she died of want, exposure, and 
grief! ” said Nora’s son, standing pale and stony before him. 

“ And I — ^live with a breaking heart ! a harder fate, Ishmael. 
Since her death, I have been a wifeless, childless, homeless 


HEEMAN ATSTD ISHMAEL. 11 

wanderer over the wide world ! Oh, Ishmael ! my son ! my son I 
give me your hand ! ” 

“I am your mother’s son! She was your wife, you say; yet 
she never bore your name! She was your wife; yet her son 
and yours bears her maiden name! She was your wife; yet 
she perished miserably in her early youth; and undeserved re- 
proach is suffered to rest upon her memory ! Oh, sir ! if indeed 
you were her husband and my father, as you claim to be, explain 
these things before I give you my hand! for when I give my 
hand, honor and respect must go with it,” said Ishmael in a 
grave, sweet, earnest tone. 

Is it possible that Hannah has never told you ? I thought 
she would have told you everything, except the name of your 
father.” 

“ She told me everything that she could tell without violat- 
ing the oath of secrecy by which she was bound; but what she 
told me was not satisfactory.” 

Sit down then, Ishmael, sit down ; and though to recall 
this woeful history will be to tear open old wounds afresh, I 
will do so; and when you have heard it, you will know how 
blameless we both — ^your mother and myself — really were, and 
how deep has been the tragedy of my life as well as hers — the 
difference between us being that hers is a dead trouble, from 
which she rests eternally, while mine is a living and life-long 
sorrow ! ” 

Ishmael again dropped into his chair and gave undivided 
attention to the speaker. 

And Mr. Brudenell, after a short pause, commenced and gave 
a narrative of his own eventful life, beginning with his college 
days, and detailing all the incidents of his youthful career 
until it culminated in the dreadful household wreck that had 
killed Nora, exiled his family and blasted his own happiness 
forever. 

Ishmael listened with the deepest sympathy. 

It was indeed the tearing open of old wounds in Herman 
Brudenell’s breast ; and it was the inflicting of new ones in Ish- 
mael’s heart. It was an hour of unspeakable distress to both. 
Herman did not spare himself in the relation; yet in the end 
Ishmael exculpated his father from all blame. We know indeed 
that in his relations with Mora he was blameless, unless his 
fatal haste could be called a fault. And so for his long neglect 
of Ishmael, which really was a great sin, and the greatest he 


12 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

had ever committed, Ishmael never gave a thought to that, 
it was only a sin against himself, and Ishmael was not selfish 
enough to feel or resent it. 

Herman Brudenell ended his story very much as he had com- 
menced it. 

“ And since that day of doom, Ishmael, I have been a lonely, 
homeless, miserable wanderer over the wide world ! The fabled 
Wandering Jew not more wretched than I!” And the bowed 
head, blanched complexion, and quivering features bore testi- 
mony to his words. 


CHAPTER HI. 

FATHER AND SON. 

For though thou work’st my mother ill 
I feel thou art my father still! 

—Byron, 

Yet what no chance could then reveal, 

And no one would be first to own, 

Let fate and courage still conceal, 

When truth could bring reproach alone. 

—Milnes. 

Ishmael had been violently shaken. It was with much effort 
that he controlled his own emotions in order to administer con- 
solation to one who was suffering even more than he himself 
was, because that suffering was blended with a morbid remorse. 

Father,” he said, reaching forth his hand to the stricken 
man; but his voice failed him. 

Herman Brudenell looked up; an expression of earnest love 
chasing away the sorrow from his face, as he said : 

“Father? Ah, what a dear name! You call me thus, Ish- 
mael ? Me, who worked your mother so much woe ? ” 

“Father, it was your great misfortune, not your fault; she 
said it on her death-bed, and the words of the dying are sacred,” 
said Ishmael earnestly, and caressing the pale, thin hand that 
\ he held. 

“Oh, Hora! Oh, Hora!” exclaimed Herman, as all his 
bosom’s wounds bled afresh. 

“Father, do not grieve so bitterly; and after all these years 
so morbidly ! God has wiped away all tears from her eyes. She 
has been a saint in glory these many years 1 ” 


FATHER AND SON. 13 

'^You try to comfort me, Ishmael. You, Nora^s son?” ex- 
claimed Herman, with increased emotion. 

“ Who else of all the world should comfort you but Horans 
son ? ” 

“ You love me, then, a little, Ishmael? ” 

“ She loved you, my father, and why should not I ? ” 

‘^Ah, that means that you will love me in time; for love is 
not bom in an instant, my son.” 

“ My heart reaches out to you, my father : I love you even 
now, and sympathize with you deeply; and I feel that I shall 
love you more and more, and as I shall see you oftener and 
know you better,” said the simply truthful son. 

“ Ishmael ! this is the happiest hour I have known since 
Nora’s death, and Nora’s son has given it to me.” 

None have a better right to serve you.” 

‘^My son, I am a prematurely old and broken man, ruined 
and impoverished, but Brudenell Hall is still mine, and the 
name of Brudenell is one of the most ancient and honored in 
the Old and New World! If you consent, Ishmael, I will gladly, 
proudly, and openly acknowledge you as my son. I will get 
an act of the Legislature passed authorizing you to take the 
name and arms of Brudenell. And I will make you the heir of 
Brudenell Hall. What say you, Ishmael ? ” 

“Father,” said the young man, promptly but respectfully, 
“no! In all things I will be to you a true and loving son; 
but I cannot> cannot consent to your proposal; because to do 
60 would be to cast bitter, heavy, unmerited reproach upon my 
sweet mother’s memory! For, listen, sir: you are known to 
have been the husband of the Countess Hurstmonceux for more 
years than I have lived in this world; you are known to have 
been so at the very time of my birth; you could not go about 
explaining the circumstances to everyone who would become 
^ acquainted with the facts, and the consequences would be what 
I said! No, father, leave me as I am; for, besides the reasons 
I have given, there is yet another reason why I may not take 
your name.” 

“What is that* Ishmael?” asked Brudenell, in a broken 
voice. 

“ It is, that in an hour of passionate grief, after hearing my 
mother’s woeful story from the lips of my aunt, I fell upon that 
mother’s grave jmd vowed to make her name — ^the only thing 
she had tq leave me, poor mother ! — illustrious. It was a piece 


14 self-ejmseb; oe, feom the depths. 

of boyish vainglory, no doubt, but it was a vow, and I must 
try to keep it,’^ said Ishmael, faintly smiling. 

“You will keep it; you will make the name of Worth illus- 
trious in the ann ils of the country, Ishmael,” said Mr. Bru- 
denell. 

There was a pause for a little while, at the end of which the 
latter said : 

“ '^here is another way in which I may be able to accomplish 
my purpose, Ishmael. Without proclaiming you as my son, and 
risking the reproach you dread for your dear mother’s memory, 
I might adopt you as my son, and appoint you as my heir. Will 
you make me happy by consenting to that measure, Ishmael ? ” 
inquired the father, in a persuasive tone. 

“ Dear sir, I cannot. Oh, do not think that I am insensible 
to all your kindness, for indeed I am not ! I thank you ; I love 
you; and I deeply sympathize with you in your disappoint- 
ment; but ” 

“ But what, my son ? what is the reason you cannot agree to 
this last proposal ? ” asked Mr. Brudenell, in a voice quivering 
with emotion. 

“A strong spirit of independence, the growth of years of 
lonely struggle with the world, possesses and inspires me. I 
could not for an hour endure patronage or dependence, come 
they from where or how they might. It is the law of my life,” 
said Ishmael firmly, but affectionately. 

“ It is a noble law, and yours has been a noble life, my son. 
But — is there nothing, nothing I can do for you to prove my 
affection, and to ease my heart, Ishmael ? ” 

“ Yes ! ” said the young man, after a pause. “ When you re- 
turn to England, you will see — Lady Vincent! ” The name was 
uttered with a gasp. “ Tell her what you have told me — the 
‘ history of your acquaintance with my mother; your mutual 
love ; your private marriage, and the unforeseen misfortune that 
wrecked your happiness! Tell her how pure and noble and 
lovely my young mother was ! that her ladyship may kriow once 
for all Nora Worth was not” — Ishmael covered his face 
with his hands, and caught his breath, and continued — “not, 
as she said, ^ the shame of her own sex and the scorn of ours ’ ; 
that her son is not ^ the child of sin,’ nor ‘ his heritage dis- 
honor ! ’ ” And Ishmael dropped his stately head upon his desk, 
and sobbed aloud; sobbed until all his athletic form shook 
ivvith the storm of his great agony. 


FATHER AKD SOH. 15 

Herman Brudenell gazed at him — appalled. Then, rising, 
he laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder, saying : 

Ishmael ! Ishmael ! don’t do so ! Calm yourself, my son ; 
oh, my dear son, calm yourself ! ” 

He might as well have spoken to a tempest. Sobs still shook 
Ishmael’s whole frame. 

“ Oh, Heaven! oh. Heaven! Would to the Lord I had nqver 
been born! ” cried Herman Brudenell, in a voice of such uiucr 
woe that Ishmael raised his head and struggled hard to sub- 
due the storm of passion that was raging in his bosom. “ Or 
would that I had died the day I met Hora, and before I had 
entailed all this anguish on you ! ” continued Herman Bru- 
denell, amid groans and sighs. 

“Don’t say so, my father! don’t say so! You were not in 
fault. You were as blameless asv^he herself was; and you could 
not have been more so,” said Ishmael, wiping his fevered brow, 
and looking up. 

“ My generous son ! But did Claudia — did Lady Vincent use 
the cruel words you have quoted, against your mother and your- 
self?” 

“ She did, my father. Oh, but I have suffered ! ” exclaimed 
Ishmael, with shaking voice and quivering features. 

“I know you have; I know it, Ishmael; but you have 
grandly, gloriously conquered suffering,” said Mr. Brudenell, 
with enthusiasm. 

“Hot quite conquered it yet; but I shall endeavor to do so,” 
replied the young man, who had now quite regained his self- 
possession. 

And another pause fell between them. 

Ishmael leaned his head upon his hand and reflected deeply 
for a few moments. Then, raising his head, he said: 

“My father, for her sake, our relationship must remain a 
secret from all the world, with the few exceptions of those in- 
timate friends to whom you can explain the circumstances, and 
even to them it must be imparted in confidence. You will tell 
Lady Vincent, that her ladyship may know how false were the 
calumnies she permitted herself to repeat; and Judge Merlin 
and Mr. Middleton, whose kindness has entitled them to the 
confidence, for their own satisfaction.” 

“ And no one else, Ishmael ? ” 

“Ho one else in the world, my father. I myself will tell 
Uncle Eeuben. And in public, my father, we must be discreet 


16 self-eaised; ok, fkom the depths. 

in onr intercourse with each other. Forgive me if I speak in 
too dictatorial a manner; I speak for lips that are dumb in 
death. I speak as my dead mothers advocate,” said Ishmael, 
with a strange blending of meekness and firmness in his tone 
and manner. 

“And her advocate shall be heard and heeded, hard as his 
mandate seems. But, ah ! I am an old and broken man, Ishmael. 
I had hoped, in time, to claim you as my son, and solace my age 
in your bright youth. I am grievously disappointed. Oh! 
would to Heaven I had taken charge of you in your infancy, 
and then you would not disclaim me now I” sighed Mr. Bru- 
denell. 

“ I do not disclaim you, father. I only deprecate the publicity 
that might \vound my mother’s memory. And you are not 
old and broken, my father. How can you be — at forty -three? 
You are in the sunny summer noon of your life. But you are 
harassed and ill in mind and body; and you are very morbid 
and sensitive. You shun society, form no new ties with your 
fellow-creatures, and brood over that old sad tragedy long 
passed. Think no more of it, father; its wounds are long 
since healed in every heart but yours; my mother has been in 
heaven these many years; as long as I have been on earth; my 
birthday here was her birthday there! Therefore, brood no 
more over that sad time ; it is forever past and gone. Think of 
your young love as much as you please; but think of her in 
heaven. It is not well to think forever of the Crucifixion and 
never of the Ascension; forever of the martyrdom that was but 
for a moment, and never of the glory that is from everlasting 
to everlasting. Hora was martyred; her martyrdom was as 
the grief of a moment; but she has ascended and her happiness 
is eternal in the heavens. Think of her so. And rouse your- 
self. Wake to the duties and pleasures of life. Look around 
upon and enjoy the beauty of the earth, the wisdom of man, 
the loveliness of woman, and the goodness of God. If you were 
a single man I should say ^ marry again ’ ; but as you are al- 
ready a married man, though estranged from your wife, I say 
to you, seek a reconciliation with that lady. You are both in 
the prime of life.” 

“What! does Nora’s son give me such advice?” inquired 
Brudenell, with a faint, incredulous smile. 

“ Yes, he does; as Nora herself in her wisdom and love would 
do, could she speak to you from heaven,” said Ishmael solemnly. 


FATHER AND SON. 


17 


Brudenell slowly and sorrowfully shook his head. 

“ The Countess of Hurstmonceux can nevermore be anything 
to me,” he said. 

“ My father ! have you then no kindly memory of the sweet 
young lady who placed her innocent affections upon you in your 
early manhood, and turning away from all her wealthy and ti- 
tled suitors, gave herself and her fortune to you ? ” 

Slowly and bitterly Herman Brudenell shook his head. Ish- 
mael, still looking earnestly in his face continued: 

“ Who left her native country and her troops of friends, and 
crossed the sea alone, to follow you to a home that must have 
seemed like a wilderness, and servants that were like savages 
to her; who devoted her time and spent her money in embell- 
ishing your house and improving your land, and in civilizing 
and Christianizing your negroes; and who passed the flower 
of her youth in that obscure neighborhood, doing good and 
waiting patiently long, weary years for the return of the man 
she loved.” 

Still the bitter, bitter gesture of negation from Herman. 

“ Father,” said Ishmael, fixing his beautiful eyes on Bru- 
denell’s face and speaking earnestly, “ it seems to me that if 
any young lady had loved me with such devotion and constancy, 
I must have loved her fondly in return. I could not have 
helped doing so ! ” 

“ She wronged me, Ishmael ! ” 

“And even if she had offended me — deeply and justly offended 
me — I must have forgiven her and taken her back to my bosom 
again.” 

“It was worse than that, Ishmael! It was no common 
offense. She deceived me 1 She was false to me ! ” 

“ I cannot believe it ! ” exclaimed Ishmael earnestly. 

“ Why, what ground have you for saying so ? What can you 
know of it ? ” 

“ Because I do not easily think evil of women*. My life has 
been short and my experience limited, I know; but as far as 
my observation instructs me, they are very much better than we 
are; they do not readily yield to evil; their tendencies are all 
good,” said Ishmael fervently. 

“Young man, you know a great deal of books, a great deal 
of law; but little of men, and less of women. A man of the 
world would smile to hear you say what you have just said, 
Ishmael.” 


18 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

If I am mistaken, it is a matter to weep over, not to smile 
at ! ” said Ishmael gravely, and almost severely. 

“ It is true.” 

But to return to your countess, my father. I am not mis- 
taken in that lady’s face, I know. I have not seen it since I 
was eight years old; but it is before me now! a sweet, sad, 
patient young face, full of holy love. Among the earliest memo- 
ries of my life is that of the young Countess of Hurstmonceux, 
and the stories that were afloat concerning herself and you. It 
was said that every day at sunset she would go to the turn- 
stile at the crossroads on the edge of the estate, where she 
could see all up and down two roads for many miles, and there 
stand watching to catch the first glimpse of you, if perhaps you 
might be returning home. She did this for years and years, 
until people began to say that she was crazed with hope de- 
ferred. It was at that very stile I first saw her. And when I 
looked at her lovely face and thought of her many charities — 
for there was no suffering from poverty in that neighborhood 
while she lived there — I felt that she was an angel ! ” 

“ Aye ! a fallen angel, Ishmael ! ” 

“No, father! no! my life and soul on her truth and love! 
Children are good judges of character, you know! And I was 
but eight years old on the occasion of which I speak! I was 
carrying a basket of tools for the ‘professor,’ whose assist- 
ant I was; and who would have carried them himself only that 
his back was bent beneath a load of kitchen utensils, for we 
had been plastering a cistern all day and in coming home took 
these things to mend in the evening. And as we passed down 
the road we saw this lovely lady leaning on the stile. And she 
called me to her and laid her hand on my head and looked 
in my face very tenderly, and turning to the professor, said: 
‘ This child is too young for so heavy a burden.’ And she took 
out her purse and would have given me an eagle, only that Aunt 
Hannah had taught me never to take money that I had not 
earned.” 

“ Grim Hannah ! It is a marvel she had not starved you with 
her scruples, Ishmael! But what else passed between you and 
the countess?” 

“ Not much ! but if she was sorry for me, I was quite as sorry 
for her.” 

“ There was a bond of sympathy between you which you 
felt without understanding at the time!” 


FATHER Amy SON. 


10 


There was ; though I mistook its precise character. Seeing 
that she wore black, I said : ^ Have you also lost your mother, 
my lady, and are you in deep mourning for her ? ’ And she 
answered, ‘I am in deep mourning for my dead happiness, 
child r” 

^^For her dead honor, she might have said!” 

“Father! the absent are like the dead; they cannot defend 
themselves,” said Ishmael. 

“ That is true ; and I stand rebuked ! And henceforth, what- 
ever I may think, I will never speak evil of the Countess of 
Hurstmonceux.” 

“ Go farther yet, dear sir ! seek an explanation with her, and 
my word on it she will be able to confute the calumnies, or 
clear up the suspicious circumstances or whatever it may have 
been that has shaken your confidence in her, and kept you apart 
BO long.” 

“Ishmael it is a subject that I have never broached to 
the countess, and one that I could not endure to discuss with 
her!” 

“What, my father? Would you forever condemn her un- 
heard? We do not treat our worst criminals so!” 

“ Spare me, my son ! for I have spared her ! ” 

“ If by sparing her you mean that you have left her alone, 
you had better not spared her; you had better sought divorce; 
then one of two things would have happened — either she would 
have disproved the charges brought against her, or she would 
have been set free! either alternative much better than her 
present condition.” 

“ I could not drag my domestic troubles into a public 
courtroom, Ishmael ! ” 

“Hot when justice required it, father? — But you are going 
down into the neighborhood of Brudenell Hall! You will hear 
of her from the people among wliom she lived for so many years, 
and who cherish her memory as that of an angel of mercy, 
and — you will change your opinion of her.” 

Herman Brudenell smiled incredulously, and then said: 

“ Apropos of my visit to Brudenell Hall ! I hope, Ishmael, 
that you will be able to join me there in the course of the sum- 
mer ? ” 

“Father, yes! I promise you to do so. I will be at pains to 
put my business in such train as will enable me to visit you for 
a week or two.” 


20 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

Thanks, Ishmael ! And now, do you know I think the first 
dinner bell rang some time ago and it is time to dress ? ” 

And Herman Brudenell arose, and after pressing IshmaeFs 
hand, left the library. 

The interview furnished Ishmael with too much food for 
thought to admit of his moving for some time. He sat by the 
table in a brown study, reflecting upon all that he had heard, 
until he was suddenly startled by the pealing out of the second 
bell. Then he sprang up, hurried to his chamber, hastily ar- 
ranged his toilet, and went down into the dining room, where 
he found all the family already assembled and waiting for him. 


CHAPTEE IV. 


BEE. 

And coldly from that noble heart, 

In all its glowing youth, 

His love had turned and spurned apart 
Its tenderness and truth — 

Let him alone to live, or die — 

Alone ! — Yet, who is she? 

Some guardian angel from the sky. 

To bless and aid him? — Bee! 

— Anon. 


Ishmael received many other invitations. One morning, 
while he was seated at the table in his office, Walter Middleton 
entered, saying: 

“Ishmael, leave reading over those stupid documents and 
listen to me. I am going to Saratoga for a month. Come with 
me; it will do you good.” 

“ Thank you all the same, Walter; but I cannot leave the city 
now,” said Ishmael. 

“Nonsense! there is but little doing; and now, if ever, you 
should take some recreation.” 

“ But I am busy with getting up some troublesome cases for 
the next term.” 

“And that’s worse than nonsense! Leave the cases alone 
until the court sits; take some rest and recreation and you will 
find it pay well in renewed vigor of body and mind. I that 
tell you so am an M. D., you know.” 

“ I thank you, Dr. Middleton, and when I find myself growing 


BEE. 21 

weak I will follow your prescription,” smiled Ishmael, rising 
and beginning to tie up his documents. 

“ And that’s a signal for my dismissal, I suppose. Off to the 
City Hall again this morning?” inquired Walter. 

Yes ; to keep an appointment,” replied Ishmael. And the 
friends separated. 

Later in the day, when the young attorney had returned 
and was spending his leisure hour in going on with the book- 
packing, Judge Merlin entered and threw himself into a chair 
and for some moments watched the packer. 

“ What is that you are doing now, Ishmael ? Oh, I see ; doc- 
toring a sick book ! ” 

‘‘Well, I dislike to see a fine volume that has served us 
faithfully and seen hard usage perish for the want of a mo- 
ment’s attention ; it is but that which is required when we have 
the mucilage at hand,” he said, smiling and pointing to the 
bottle and brush, and then deposited the book in its packing- 
case. 

“But that is not what I come to talk to you about. Have 
you found a proper room for an office yet ? ” 

“Yes; I have a suite of rooms on the first floor of a house on 
Louisiana Avenue. The front room I shall use for a public 
office, the middle one for a private office, and the back one, 
which opens upon a pleasant porch and a garden, for a bed- 
chamber; for I shall lodge there and board with the family,” 
replied Ishmael. 

“ That seems to be a pleasant arrangement. But, Ishmael, 
take my advice and engage a clerk immediately ; — ^you will want 
one before long, anyhow — and put him in your rooms to watch 
your business, and do you take a holiday. Come down to Tan- 
glewood for a month. You need the change. After the wilder- 
ness of houses and men you want the world of trees and birds. 
At least I do, and I judge you by myself.” 

Ishmael smiled, thanked his kind friend cordially, and then, 
in terms as courteous as he could devise, declined the invita- 
tion, giving the same reasons for doing so that he had already 
given first to Mr. Brudenell and next to' Walter Middleton. 

“ Well, Ishmael, I will not urge you, for I know by past ex- 
perience when you have once made up your mind to a course 
of conduct you deem right, nothing on earth will turn you aside 
from it. But see here ! why do you go through all that drudgery? 
Why not order Powers to pack those books ? ” 


22 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

“ Powers is a pearl in his own way; but he cannot pack books; 
and besides, he has no respect for them.” 

‘^No feeling, you mean! he would not dress their wounds 
before putting them to bed in those boxes ! ” 

“ No.” 

“ Well, ‘ a wilfu’ mon maun ha’ his way,’ ” said the judge, 
taking up the evening paper and burying himself in its perusal. 
That same night, while Ishmael, having finished his day’s work, 
was refreshing himself by strolling through the garden, in- 
haling the fragrance of flowers, listening to the gleeful chirp 
of the joyous little insects, and watching the light of the stars, 
he heard an advancing step behind him, and presently his arm 
was taken by Mr. Middleton, who, walking on with him, said: 

“ What are you going to do with yourself, Ishmael ? 

“ Put myself to work like a beaver 1 ” 

“ Humph ! that will be nothing new for you. But I came out 
here to induce you to reconsider that resolution. I wish to 
persuade you to join us at Beacon House. That high promon- 
tory stretching far out to sea and exposed to all the sea breezes 
will be the very place to recruit your health at. Come, what 
say you ? ” 

Ishmael’s eyes grew moist as he grasped Mr. Middleton’s 
hand and said: 

“ Three invitations of this sort I have already had — this is 
the fourth. My friends are too kind. I know not how I have 
won such friendship or deserved such kindness. But I cannot 
avail myself of the pleasant quarters they offer me. I cannot, 
at present, leave Washington, except at such a sacrifice of pro- 
fessional duties as they would not wish me to make. Mr. Mid- 
dleton, I thank you heartily all the same.” 

‘^Well, Ishmael, I am sorry to lose your company; but not 
sorry for the cause of the loss. The pressure of business that 
confines you to the city during the recess argues much for your 
popularity and success. But, my dear boy, pray consider my 
invitation as a standing one, and promise me to avail yourself 
of it the first day you can do so.” 

''Thank you; that I will gladly do, Mr. Middleton.” 

"And when you come, remain with us as long as you can 
without neglecting your duty.” 

" Indeed I will.” 

At that moment a light rustle through the bushes was heard 
and Bee joined them, saying: 


BEE. 


23 


'^Papa, if I were to tell you the dew is falling heavily and 
the grass is wet, and it is not good for you or Ishmael to be 
out here, you might not heed me. But when I say that uncle 
has gone with General Tourneysee to a political pow-wow, and 
mamma and myself are quite alone and would like to amuse 
ourselves with a game of whist, perhaps you will come in and 
be our partners.” 

Why, certainly. Busy Bee ; for if anyone in this world de- 
serves play after work it is you,” replied Mr. Middleton. 

“ Bight face ! forward ! march ! ” then said Bee ; and she led 
her captives out of the night air and into the house. 

Early the next morning Ishmael was surprised by a fifth in- 
vitation to a country house. It was contained in a letter from 
Beuben Gray, which was as follows: 

^^Woodside, o Monday Morning. 

My Deer Ishmael : — ^Hannah and me, we hav bin a havin of 
a talk about you. You see the judge he wrote to me a spell 
back, a orderin of me to have the house got reddy for him 
comin home. And he menshunned, permiskuously like, as you 
was not lookin that well as you orter. But Hannah and me, 
we thort as how is was all along o that botheration law business 
as you was upset on your helth. And as how you’d get better 
when the Court riz. But now the Court is riz, and pears like 
you aint no ways better from all accounts. And tell you how 
we knowed. See Hannah and me, we got a letter from Mrs. 
Whaley as keeps the ^Farmers.’ Well she rote to Hannah and 
me to send her up some chickins and duks and eggs and butter 
and other fresh frutes and vegetubbles, which she sez as they 
doo ask sich onlawful prices for em in the city markits as she 
cant conshuenshusly giv it. So she wants Hannah and me to 
soopli her. And mabee we may and mabee we maynt; but 
that’s nyther here nur there. Wot Hannah and me wants to 
say is this — as how Mrs. Whaley she met you in the street in- 
cerdentul. And she sez as how she newer saw no wun look no 
wusser than you do! How, Ishmael, Hannah and me, we sees 
how it is. Youre a-killin of yourself jest as fast as ever you can, 
which is no better than Susanside, because it* is agin natur and 
agin rillijun to kill wunself for a livin. So Hannah and me, we 
wants you to drap everythink rite outen your hands and kum 
home to us. Wot you want is a plenty of good kuntre air and 
water, and nun o your stifeld up streets and pizen pumps. 


24 


self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

And plenty o good kuntre eetin and drinkin and nun o your 
sickly messes. So you kum. Hannah and me is got a fine caff 
and fat lamm to kill soon as ever you git here. And lots o 
young chickins and duks. And the gratest kwontity o frute, 
peeches, peers, plums, and kanterlopes and warter millions in 
plenty. And the hamberg grapes is kummin on. And we hav 
got a noo cow, wun o the sort cawld durrums, which she doo 
give the richest milk as ever you drinked and if ennything will 
set you up it is that. And likewise we hav got the noo fashund 
fowls as people are all runnin mad about. They cawl em shank 
hyes pun count o there long leggs, which they is about the 
longest as ever you saw. And the way them fowls doo stryde 
and doo eet is a cawshun to housekeepers. They gobble up 
everything. And wot doo you think. You know Sally’s brest- 
pin, as Jim bawt her for a kristmus gift. Well she happened 
to drap it offen her buzzum, inter the poultry yard, and soons 
ever she mist it she run rite out after it; but the shank-hye 
rooster he run fastem she did with his long legs and gobbled 
it rite down, afore his eyes. And the poor gals bin a howlin and 
bawlin and brakin of her poor hart ebout it ever since. She 
wanted us — Hannah and me to kill the shank-hye; to git the 
brestpin; but as we had onlee a pare on em we tolde her how it 
was too vallabel for that. But Hannah and me we give the 
shank hye a dose of eepeekak, in hope it would make him throw 
up the brestpin; but it dident; for the eepeekak set on his 
stomik like an angel, as likewise did the brestpin; and Hannah 
and me thinks he diggested em both. Well, they aint daintee 
in their wittels them shank hyes. Now bee shure to kum, Ish- 
mael. Hannah and me and the young uns and Sally will awl 
be so glad to see you and you can role in clover awl day if you 
like. And now I have ralely no more noose to tell you; only 
that I rote this letter awl outen my own hed without Hannah 
helpin of me. Dont you think as Ime improvin ? Hannah and 
the little uns and Sally jine me in luv to you mi deer IshmaeL 
And Ime your effectshunit frend till deth do us part. 

“ Reuben Gray. 

‘^Post Cript. Ive jist redd this letter to Hannah. And she 
doo say as every uther wurd is rote rong. I dont think they is ; 
becawse Ive got a sartain roole to spell rite; which is — I think 
how a word sownde and then I spell it accordin. But law, Ish- 
uiael! ever sense Hannah has been teechin them young uns o 


BEE. 


25 


oiirn to reede there primmers, shes jest got to be the orfullest 
Bloo Stokkin as ewer was. Dont tell her I sed so tho, for she 
ralely is wun of the finest wimmin livin and Ime prowd of her 
and her young uns. So no more at present onle kum. 

G.” 

Grateful for this kind invitation as he had been for any that 
had been given him, Ishmael sat down immediately and an- 
swered the letter, saying to Reuben, as he had said to others, 
that he would thankfully accept his offered hospitality as soon 
as his duties would permit him to do so. 

The last day of the family’s sojourn in town came. On the 
morning of that day Mr. Brudenell took leave of his friends and 
departed, exacting from Ishmael a renewal of his promise to 
visit Brudenell Hall in the course of the summer. On that last 
day Ishmael completed the packing of the books and sent them 
off to the boat that was to convey them to the Tanglewood land- 
ing. And then he had all his own personal effects Conveyed to 
his new lodgings. And finally he sought an interview with Bee. 
That was not so easily obtained, however. Bee was excessively 
busy on this last day. But Ishmael, with the privilege of an in- 
mate, went through the house, looking for her, until he found 
her in the family storeroom, busy among the jars and cans, and 
attended by her maids. 

“ Come in, Ishmael, for this concerns you,” she said pleas- 
antly. 

And Ishmael entered, wondering what he could be supposed 
to have to do with preserved fruits and potted meats. 

Bee pointed to a box that was neatly packed with small jars, 
saying : 

There, Ishmael — there are some sealed fruits and vegetables, 
and some spiced meats and fish, and a bachelor’s lamp and 
kettle, in that case which Ann is closing down. They are yours. 
Direct Jim where to find your lodgings, and he will take them 
there in the wheelbarrow. And there is a keg of crackers and 
biscuits to go with them.” 

‘‘ Dearest Bee, I am very grateful ; but why should you give 
me all these things ? ” inquired Ishmael, in surprise. 

Because you are going away from home, and you will want 
them. Yes, you will, Ishmael, though you don’t think so now. 
Often business will detain you out in the evening until after 
your boarding-house supper is over. Then how nice to have 


26 self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

the means at hand to get a comfortable little meal for yourself 
in your own room without much trouble. Why, Ishmael, we 
always put up such a box as this for Walter when he leaves 
us. And do you think that mamma or I would make any dif- 
ference between you ? ” 

“ You have always been a dear — ^yes, the dearest of sisters to 

me! and some day, Bee ” He stopped, and looked around. 

The maids were at some distance, but still he felt that the 
family storeroom was not exactly the place to say what was on 
his heart for her, so he whispered the question: 

How long will you be engaged here, dear Bee ? 

“Until tea time. It will take me quite as long as that to 
get through what I have to do.” 

“ And then. Bee ? ” 

“Then I shall be at leisure to pass this last evening with 
you, Ishmael,” answered Bee, meeting his wish with the frank- 
ness of pure affection. 

“ And will you walk with me in the garden after tea ? It will 
be our last stroll together there,” he said rather sadly. 

“Yes; I will walk with you, Ishmael. The garden is lovely 
just at sunset.” 

“ Thank you, dearest Bee. Ah 1 how many times a day I have 
occasion to speak these words ! ” 

“ I wish you would leave them off altogether, then, Ishmael. 
I always understand that you thank me far more than I de- 
serve.” 

“ Never I How could I ? ‘ Thank you !’ they are but two words. 
How could they repay you. Bee? Dearest, this evening you 
shall know how much I thank you. Until then, farewell.” He 
pressed her hand and left her. 

Now Ishmael was far too clear-sighted not to have seen that 
Bee had fixed her pure maidenly affections upon him, and to 
see also that Bee’s choice was well approved by her parents, 
who had long loved him as a son. While Ishmael’s hands had 
been busy with the book-packing his thoughts had been busy 
with Bee and with the problem that her love presented him. 
He had loved Claudia with an all-absorbing passion. But she 
had left him and married another, and so stricken a death- 
blow to his love. But this love was dying very hard, and in its 
death-struggles was rending and tearing the heart which was 
its death-bed. 

And in the meantime Bee’s love was alive and healthy, and 


BEE. 


2 ? 


it was fixed on him. He was not insensible, indifferent, un- 
grateful for this dear love. Indeed, it was the sweetest solace 
that he had in this world. He felt in the profoundest depths 
of his heart all the loveliness of Bee’s nature. And most ten- 
derly he loved her — as a younger sister. What then should he 
do? Offer to Bee the poor, bleeding heart that Claudia had 
played with, broken, and cast aside as worthless? All that was 
true, noble, and manly in Ishmael’s nature responded: 

“ God forbid ! ” 

But what then should he do? Leave her to believe him in- 
sensible, indifferent, ungrateful? Strike such a deathblow to 
her loving heart as Claudia had stricken to his? All that was 
generous, affectionate and devoted in Ishmael’s nature cried 
out: “Ho! forbid it, angels in heaven!” 

But what then could he do ? The magnanimity of his nature 
answered : 

“ Open your heart to her ; that she may know all that is in it ; 
then lay that heart at her feet, for accepting or rejecting.” 

And this he resolved to do. And this resolution sent him to 
beg this interview with Bee. Yet before going to keep it he 
determined to speak to Mr. Middleton. He felt certain that 
Mr. Middleton would indorse his addresses to his daughter ; yet 
still his fine sense of honor constrained him to seek the consent 
of the father before proposing to the daughter. And with this 
view in mind immediately upon leaving Bee he sought Mr. 
Middleton. 

He found that gentleman walking about in the garden, en- 
joying his afternoon cigar. In these afternoon promenades 
Mr. Middleton, who was the shorter and slighter as well as the 
older man, often did Ishmael the honor of leaning upon his 
arm. And now Ishmael went up to his side and with a smile 
silently offered the usual support. 

“ Thank you, my boy ! I was just feeling the want of your 
friendly arm. My limbs are apt to grow tired of walking be- 
fore my eyes are satiated with gazing or my mind with reflect- 
ing on the beauty of the summer evening,” said Mr. Middle- 
ton, slipping his arm within that of Ishmael. 

“ Sir,” said the young man, blushing slightly, “ a selfish mo- 
tive has brought me to your side this afternoon.” 

“A selfish motive, Ishmael! I do not believe that you are 
capable of entertaining one,” smiled Mr. Middleton. 

“Indeed, yes, sir; you will say so when you hear of it.” 


28 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

^‘Let me hear of it, then, Ishmael, for the novelty of the 
thing.” 

The young man hesitated for a few moments and then said : 

“Mr. Middleton — Mr. Brudenell has, I believe, put you in 
possession of the facts relative to my birth ? ” 

“ Yes, my dear Ishmael ; but let me assure you that I did not 
need to be told of them. Do you remember the conversation 
we had upon the subject years ago? It was the morning after 
the school party when that miserable craven, Alfred Burghe, 
disgraced himself by insulting you.^ You said, Ishmael, ‘My 
mother was a pure and honorable woman ! Oh, believe it ! ^ 
I did believe it then, Ishmael; for your words and tones and 
manner carried irresistible conviction to my mind. And every 
year since I have been confirmed in my belief. You, Ishmael, 
are the pledge of your parents’ honor as well as of their love. 
‘ Men do not gather grapes of thorns, nor figs of thistles,’ ” said 
Mr. Middleton earnestly. 

“ And yet, sir, I have suffered and may again suffer reproach 
that neither myself nor my parents deserved,” said Ishmael 
gravely. 

“You never will again, Ishmael. You have overcome the 
world.” 

“ Thank you ! thank you, sir ! I purposely reminded you of 
this old injustice. You do not regard me the less for having 
suffered it?” 

“The less! No, my boy; but the more, for having over- 
come it ! ” 

“ Again I thank you from the depths of my heart. You have 
known me from boyhood, Mr. Middleton; and you may be said 
to know my character and my prospects better than anyone 
else in the world does ; better, even, than I know them myself.” 

“ I think that quite likely to be true.” 

“ Well, sir, I hope in a few years to gain an established repu- 
tation and a moderate competency by my practice at the bar.” 

“You will gain fame and wealth, Ishmael.” 

“Well, sir, if ever by the blessing of Heaven I do attain 
these distinctions, taking everything else into consideration, 
would you, sir, would you then — 

“ What, Ishmael ? Speak out, my boy ? ” 

“ Accept me as a son ? ” 

“Do you want me to give you Bee?” gravely inquired Mr. 
Middleton. 


BEE. 


29 


“ When I shall be more worthy of her, I do.’^ 

“Have you Bee’s consent to speak to me on this subject?” 

“No, sir; I have not yet addressed Miss Middleton. I could 
not venture to do so without your sanction. It is to obtain 
it that I have come to you this evening. I would like very 
much to have an understanding with Miss Middleton before we 
part for an indefinite time.” 

Mr. Middleton fell into deep thought. It was some minutes 
before he spoke. When§he did, it was to say: 

“Ishmael, Bee is my eldest daughter and favorite child.” 

“ I know it, sir,” answered the young man. 

“Parents ought not to have favorites among their children; 
but how can I help it? Bee is almost an angel.” 

“ I know it, sir,” said Ishmael. 

“ Oh, yes ; you know it ! you know it ! ” exclaimed Mr. Mid- 
dleton, half laughing and not far from crying ; “ but do you 
know what you do when you ask a father to give up his best 
beloved daughter ? ” 

“Indeed I think I do, sir; but — daughters must some time 
or other become wives,” said Ishmael, with a deprecating smile. 

“Yes, it is true!” sighed Mr. Middleton. “Well, Ishmael, 
since in the course of nature I must some day give my dear 
daughter up, I would rather give her to you than to any man on 
earth, for I have a great esteem and affection for you, Ishmael.” 

“ Indeed, sir, it is mutual ! ” replied the young man, grasping 
the hand of his friend. 

“ It is just the state of feeling that should exist between 
father- and son-in-law,” said Mr. Middleton. 

“ I have your sanction, then, to speak to Bee ? ” 

“ Yes, Ishmael, yes; I will give her to you! But not yet, my 
dear boy; for several reasons not just yet! You are both very 
young yet; you are but little over twenty-one; she scarcely 
nineteen; and besides her mother still needs her assistance in 
taking care of the children; and I — ^must get used to the idea 
of parting with her; so you must wait a year or two longer, 
Ishmael ! She is well worth waiting for.” 

“I know it! Oh, I know it well, sir! I have seen women as 
beautiful, as amiable, and as accomplished; but I never, no, 
never met with one so ^ altogether lovely ’ as Bee ! And I thank 
you, sir! Oh, I thank you more than tongue can tell for the 
boon you have granted me. You will not lose your daughter, 
sir; but you will gain a son; and I will be a true son to you. 


30 


self-raised; or, from the depths, 

sir, as Heaven hears me! And to her I will be a true lover and 
husband. Her haziness shall be the very first object in my 
life, sir; nothing in this world over which I have the slightest 
control shall be suffered to come into competition with it.” 

“ I am — I am sure of that, my boy ! ” replied Mr. Middleton, 
in a broken voice. 

“ And I do not presume to wish to hurry either you or her, 
sir ; I am willing to wait your leisure and hers ; all I want now is 
to have an understanding with Bee, and to be admitted to the 
privileges of an accepted lover. You could trust me so far, 
sir ? ” 

“ Trust you so far I Why, Ishmael, there is no limit to my 
trust in you 1 ” 

^^And Mrs. Middleton, sir?” 

“Why, Ishmael, she loves you as one of her own children; 
and I do think you would disappoint and grieve her if you 
were to marry out of the family. I will break the matter to 
Mrs. Middleton. Go find Bee, and speak to her of this matter, 
and when you have won her consent, bring her to me that I 
may join your hands and bless your betrothal.” 

Ishmael fervently pressed the hand of his kind friend and 
left him. 

Of course Bee, who was still busy with her maids in the store- 
room, was not to be spoken to on that subject at that hour. But 
Ishmael went up to his own room to reflect. 

Perhaps the whole key to Ishmael’s conduct in this affair 
might have been found in the words he used when pleading with 
his father the cause of the Countess of Hurstmonceux ; he said : 

“ It seems to me, if any young lady had loved me so, I must 
have loved her fondly in return; I could not have helped doing 
so.” 

And he could not. There was something too warm, gen- 
erous, and noble in Hora’s son to be so insensible as all that. 

His inspiration also instructed him that not the beautiful 
and imperious Claudia, but the lovely and loving Bee was his 
Heaven-appointed wife. 

He was inspired when in his agony that dreadful night he 
had cried out : “ By a woman came sin and death into the 

world, and by a woman came redemption and salvation! Oh! 
Claudia, my Eve, farewell ! And Bee, my Mary, hail ! ” 

And now that he was about to betroth himself to Bee, and 
make her happy, he himself felt happier than he had been for 


SECOND LOVE. 


31 


many days. He felt sure, too, that when his heart should re- 
cover from its wounds he should love Bee with a deeper, higher, 
purer, and more lasting affection than ever his fierce passion 
for Claudia could have become. 

CHAPTER V. 

SECOND LOVE. 

The maiden loved the young man well, 

And pined for many a day, 

Because that star-eyed, queenly belle 
Had won his heart away. 

But now the young man chooses well 
Between the beauteous pair. 

The proud and brilliant dark-haired belle, 

And gentle maiden fair. 

— M. F. Tupper. 

After tea Ishmael, having missed Bee from the drawing 
room, went out into the garden, expecting to find her there. 
Hot seeing her, he walked up and down the gravel walk, waiting 
for her appearance. 

Presently she came up, softly and silently, and joined him. 

“ Thanks, dearest Bee,” he said, as he drew her arm within 
Lis own. 

^‘It is a beautiful evening, Ishmael; I have never seen the 
garden look more lovely,” said Bee. 

And it was indeed a beautiful evening and a lovely scene. 
The sun had just set; but all the western horizon and the 
waters of the distant river were aflame with crimson fire of 
his reflected rays; while over the eastern hills the moon and 
stars were shining from the dark gray heavens. In the garden, 
the shrubs and flowers, not yet damp with dew, were sending 
forth their richest fragrance; the latest birds were twittering 
softly before settling themselves to sleep in their leafy nests; 
and the earliest insects were tuning up their tiny, gleeful pipes 
before commencing their evening concert. 

“ This garden is a very pleasant place, quite as pleasant as 
Tanglewood, if uncle would only think so,” said Bee. 

^‘Yes, it is very pleasant. You do not like the plan of re- 
turning to the country. Bee ? ” said Ishmael. 

‘^Ho, indeed, I do not; breaking up and parting is always 
a painful process.” And Bee’s lips quivered and the tears came 
into her eyes. 


82 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

Ishmael pressed the little hand that lay light as a snowflake 
on his arm, drew it closer within his embrace, and turned down 
the narrow path that led to the remote arbor situated far down 
in the angle of the wall in the bottom of the garden. 

He led her to a seat, placed himself beside her, took her hand, 
and said: 

“ It is here, dearest Bee — ^here in the scene of my humiliation 
and of my redemption — that I would say to you all I have to 
say; that I would lay my heart open before you, and place it 
at your feet, for spurning, or for blessing.” 

She looked up at him with surprise, but also with infinite 
affection in her innocent and beautiful eyes. Then, as she read 
the truth in his earnest gaze, her eyes fell, and her color rose. 

“ And dearest Bee, I have your father’s sanction for what I 
do, for without it I would not act.” 

Her eyes were still fixed upon the ground, but her hand that 
he clasped in his throbbed like a heart. And oh! he felt how 
entirely she loved him; and he felt that he could devote his 
whole life to her. 

Dearest of all dear ones. Bee, listen to me. Not many days 
have passed, since, one evening, you came to this arbor, seeking 
one that was lost and found — me ! ” 

She began to tremble. 

“ You know how you found me. Bee,” he said sadly and 
solemnly. 

“ Oh, Ishmael, dear I ” she cried, with an accent of sharp 
pain, “ do not speak of that evening I forget it and let me forget 
it I it is past 1 ” 

“ Dearest girl, only this once will I pain you by alluding to 
that sorrowful and degrading hour. You found me — I will 
not shrink from uttering the word, though it will scorch my 
lips to speak it and burn your ears to hear it — you found me — 
intoxicated.” 

“ Oh, Ishmael, dear, you were not to blame ! it was not your 
fault ! it was an accident — a misfortune ! ” she exclaimed, as 
blushes burned upon her cheeks and tears suffused her eyes. 

‘‘How much I blamed, how much I loathed myself, dearest 
Bee, you can never know! Let that pass. You found me as I 
said. Actually and bodily I was lying on this bench, sleeping 
the stupid sleep of intoxication; but morally and spiritually I 
was slipping over the brink of an awful chasm. Bee, dearest 
Bee ! dearest saving angel ! it was this little hand of yours that 


SECOND LOVE. 


33 


drew me back, so softly that I scarcely knew I had been in 
danger of ruin until that danger was past. And, Bee, since 
that day many days of storm have passed, but the face of my 
saving angel has ever looked out from among the darkest 
clouds a bright rainbow of promise. I did not perish in the 
storm, because her sweet face ever looked down upon me ! ” 

Bee did not attempt to reply ; she could not ; she sat with her 
flushed and tearful eyes bent upon the ground. 

“ Love, do you know this token ? ” he inquired, in a voice 
shaking with agitation, as he drew from his bosom a little 
wisp of white cambric and laid it in her lap. 

“It is my — my ” she essayed to answer, but her voice 

failed. 

“ It is your dear handkerchief,” be said, as he took it, pressed 
it to his lips, and replaced it in his bosom. “It is your dear 
handkerchief! When you found me as you did, in your loving 
kindness you laid it over my face — mine ! so utterly unworthy 
to be so delicately veiled! Oh, Bee, if I could express to you 
all I felt! all I thought! when I recognized this dear token, 
and so discovered who it was that had sought me when I was 
lost, and dropped tears of sorrow over me ! and then covered my 
face from the blistering sun and the stinging flies — if I could 
tell you all that I suffered and resolved, then you would feel 
and know how earnest and sincere is the heart that at last — 
at last, my darling, I lay at your beloved feet.” 

She looked up at him for a moment and breathed a single 
word — a name that seemed to escape her lips quite involuntarily 
— “ Claudia!” 

“ Yes, my darling,” he said, in tones vibrating with emotion, 
“it is as you suppose, or rather it was so! You have divined 
my secret, which indeed I never intended to keep as a secret 
from you. Yes, Bee; I loved another before loving you. I 
loved her whom you have just named. I love her no longer. 
When by her marriage with another my love would have become 
sinful, it was sentenced to death and executed. But, Bee, it 
died hard, very hard ; and in its violent death-throes it rent and 
tore my heart, as the evil spirit did the possessed man, when it 
was driven out of him. Bee, my darling,” said Ishmael, smil- 
ing for the first time since commencing the interview, “ this 
may seem to you a very fanciful way of putting the case; but 
is a good one, for in no other manner could I give you to under- 
stand how terrible my sufferings have been for the last few 


34 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

weeks, how completely my evil passion has perished; and yet 
how sore and weak it has left my heart. Bee, it is this heart, 
wounded and bleeding from a dead love, yet true and single 
in its affection for you, that I open before you and lay at your 
feet. Spurn it away from you. Bee, and I cannot blame you. 
Raise it to your own and I shall love and bless you.” 

Bee burst into tears. 

He put his arm around her and drew her to his side and she 
dropped her head upon his shoulder and wept passionately. 
Many times she tried to speak, but failed. At last, when she 
had exhausted all her passion, she raised her head from its rest- 
ing-place. He wiped the tears from her eyes and stooping, 
whispered : 

“ You will not reject me. Bee, because I loved another woman 
once ? ” 

“ Ho,” she answered softly, “ for if you loved another woman 
before me, you could not help it, Ishmael. It is not that I am 
concerned about.” 

^‘What then, dearest love? Speak out,” he whispered. 

Oh, Ishmael, tell me truly one thing ;” and she hid her 
face on his shoulder while she breathed the question : Isn’t 

it only for my sake, to please me and make me happy, that you 
offer me your love, Ishmael ? ” She spoke so low, with her face 
so muffled on his shoulder, that he scarcely understood her* so 
he bent his head and inquired: 

“ What is it that you say, dear Bee ? ” 

She tried to speak more clearly, for it seemed with her a 
point of principle to put this question; but her voice was, if 
possible, lower and more agitated than before, so that he had 
to stoop closely and listen intently to catch her words as she 
answered : 

,“Do you not offer me your love, only because — ^because you 
have found out — found out somehow or other that I — that I 
loved you first ? ” 

He clasped her suddenly close to his heart, and whispered 
eagerly : 

“ I offer you my love because I love you, best and dearest of 
all dear ones ! ” And he felt at that moment that he did love 
her entirely. 

She was sobbing softly on his shoulder ; but presently through 
her tears she said : 

‘‘ And will my love do you any good, make you any happier, 


SECOND LOVE. 


compensate you a little for all that you have missed in losing 
that brilliant one ? ” 

He held her closely to his heart while he stooped and an- 
swered : 

Dearest, your love has always been the greatest earthly 
blessing Heaven ever bestowed upon my life ! I thank Heaven 
that the blindness and madness of my heart is past and gone, 
and I am enabled to see and understand this! Your love. Bee, 
is the only earthly thing that can comfort all the sorrows that 
may come into my life, or crown all its joys. You will believe 
this, dearest Bee, when you remember that I never in my life 
varied from the truth to anyone, and least of all would I pre- 
varicate with you. I love you. Bee, let those three words an- 
swer all your doubts 1 ” 

Brightly and beautifully she smiled up at him through her 
tears. 

“All is well, then, Ishmael! For all that I desire in this 
world is the privilege of making you happy ! ” 

“ Then you are my own 1 ” he said, stooping and kissing the 
sparkling tears that hung like dew-drops on the red roses of 
her cheeks; and holding her to his heart, in profound religious 
joy and gratitude, he bowed his head and said : 

“Oh, Father in Heaven! how I thank thee for this dear 
girl! Oh, make me every day more worthy of her love, and of 
thy many blessings ! ” 

And soon after this Ishmael, happier than he ever thought 
it possible to be in this world, led forth from the arbor his be- 
trothed bride. 

He led her at once to the house and to the presence of her 
parents, whom he found in their private sitting room. 

Standing before them and holding her hand, he said: 

“ She has promised to be my wife, and we are here for your 
blessing.” 

“You have it, my children! You have it with all my heart! 
May the Lord in heaven bless with his choicest blessings Ish- 
mael and Beatrice ! ” said Mr. Middleton earnestly. 

“Amen,” said Mrs. Middleton. 

Later in the evening Judge Merlin was informed of the en- 
gagement. And after congratulating the betrothed pair he 
turned to Mr. and Mrs. Middleton and said: 

“Heaven knows how I envy you your son-in-law.” 

The gratified parents smiled for they were proud of Ishmael, 


36 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

and what he would become. But Walter Middleton grinned 
and said: 

“ Heaven may know that, Uncle Merlin ; but I know one 
thing ! ” 

“What is that, Jackanapes?” 

“I know they may thank Bee for their son-in-law, for she 
did all the courting!” 

The panic-stricken party remained silent for a moment, and 
then Judge Merlin said: 

“Well, sir! I know another thing!” 

“ And what is that, uncle ? ” 

“ That it will be a long time before you find a young lady to 
do you such an honor ! ” 

Everybody laughed, not at the brilliancy of the joke, for the 
joke was not brilliant, but because they were happy; and when 
people are happy they do honor to very indifferent jests. 

But Bee turned a ludicrously appalled look upon her lover 
and whispered: 

“ Oh, Ishmael ! suppose he had known about that little bit 
of white cambric. He would have said that I had * thrown the 
handkerchief’ to you! And so I did! it is a dreadful reflec- 
tion ! ” 

“ That handkerchief was a plank thrown to the drowning. 
Bee. It saved me from being whelmed in the waves of ruin. 
Oh, dearest, under heaven, you were my salvation ! ” said Ish- 
mael, with emotion. 

“ Your comfort, Ishmael — only your comfort. Your own 
right-mindedness, ‘under heaven,’ would have saved you.” 

This was the last and the happiest evening they all spent 
at the city home together. Early in the morning they separated. 

Judge Merlin and his servants started for Tanglewood, and 
Mr. and Mrs. Middleton and their family for The Beacon, 
where Ishmael promised as soon as possible to join them. Wal- 
ter Middleton left for Saratoga. And, last of all, Ishmael locked 
up the empty house, took charge of the key, and departed to 
take possession of his new lodgings — alone, but blessed and 
happy. 


AT WOODSIDK 


37 


CHAPTER VI. 


AT WOODSIDE. 


Who can describe the sweets of country life 
But those blest men that do enjoy and taste them? 
Plain husbandmen, though far below our pitch 
Of fortune placed, enjoy a wealth above us: 

They breathe a fresh and uucorrupted air, 

And in sweet homes enjoy untroubled sleep. 

Their state is fearless and secure, enriched 
With several blessings such as greatest kings 
Might in true justice envy, and themselves 
Would count too happy if they truly knew them. 

— May. 


Ishmael was settled in his new apartments on the first floor 
of a comfortable house on Louisiana Avenue. The front room 
opening” upon the street, and having his name and profession 
engraved upon a silver plate attached to the door, was his pub- 
lic ofiice; the middle room was his private office; and the back 
room, which opened upon a pleasant porch leading into the gar- 
den, was his bed-chamber. 

The house was kept by two sisters, maiden ladies of venera- 
ble age, who took no other boarders or lodgers. 

So, upon the whole, Ishmael’s quarters were very comfortable. 

The rapid increase of his business justified him in taking 
a clerk; and then in a week or two, as he saw this clerk over- 
tasked, he took a second; both young men who had not been, 
very successful barristers, but who were very good office lawyers. 

And Ishmael’s affairs went on “swimmingly.” 

Of course there were hours when he sadly missed the com- 
panionship of the congenial family circle with whom he had 
been so long connected; but Ishmael was not one to murmur 
over the ordinary troubles of life. He rather made* the best of 
his position and steadily looked on the bright side. 

Besides, he maintained a regular correspondence with his 
friends. That correspondence was the only recreation and 
solace he allowed himself. 

Almost every day he wrote to Bee, and he received answers 
to every one of his letters — answers full of affection, encour- 
agement, and cheerfulness. 

And at least once a week he got letters from Judge Merlin, 
Mr. Middleton, and Mr. Brudenell, all of whom continued to 


38 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

urge him to pay them visits as soon as his business would per- 
mit. Only one more letter he got from Keuben Gray; for letter 
writing was to poor Reuben a most difficult and dreaded task; 
and this one was merely to say that they should expect Ishmael 
down soon. 

From Judge Merlin’s letters it appeared that Lord and Lady 
Vincent had extended their tour into Canada East, and were 
now in the neighborhood of the Thousand Isles but that they 
expected to visit the judge at Tangle wood some time during the 
autumn; after which they intended to sail for Europe. 

Ishmael continued to push his business for six or seven weeks, 
so that it was near the first of September before he found leis- 
ure to take a holiday and pay his promised visits. 

Two weeks was the utmost length of time he could allow him- 
self. And there were four places that seemed to have equal 
claims upon his society. Where should he go first? Truly 
Ishmael was embarrassed with the riches of his friendships. 

At Woodside were Hannah and Reuben, who had cared for 
him in his orphaned infancy, and who really seemed to have the 
first right to him. 

And at Tanglewood Judge Merlin was alone, moping for the 
want of his' lost daughter and needing the consolation of a 
visit from Ishmael. 

At the Beacon was his betrothed bride, who was also anxious 
to see him. 

And finally, at Brudenell Hall was Herman Brudenell; and 
Herman Brudenell was — his father! 

After a little reflection Ishmael’s right-mindedness decided 
in favor of Woodside. Hannah had stood in his mother’s place 
towards him, and to Hannah he would go first. 

So, to get there by the shortest route, Ishmael took passage 
in the little steamer “ Errand Boy,” that left Georgetown every 
week for the mouth of the river, stopping at all the inter- 
vening landing-places. 

Ishmael started on Friday morning and on Saturday after- 
noon was set ashore at Shelton, whence a pleasant walk of three 
miles through the forest that bordered the river brought him to 
Woodside. 

Clean and cheerful was the cottage, gleaming whitely forth 
here and there from its shadowy green foliage and clustering 
red roses. The cottage and the fence had been repainted, and 
the gravel walk that led from the wicket-gate to the front door 


AT WOODSIDE. 


39 


had been trimmed and rolled. And very dainty looked the 
white, fringed curtains and the green paper blinds at the front 
windows. 

Evidently everything had been brightened up and put into 
holiday attire to welcome Ishmael. 

While his hand was on the latch of the gate he was per- 
ceived from within, and the front door flew open and all the 
family rushed out to receive him — Keuben and Hannah, and 
the two children and Sally and the dog — the latter was as noisy 
and sincere in his welcome as any of the human friends, bark- 
ing round and round the group to express his sympathy and joy 
and congratulations. 

“I tolled Hannah how you’d come to us fust; I did! Didn’t 
I, Hannah, my dear ? ” said Reuben triumphantly, as he shook 
both Ishmael’s hands with an energy worthy of a blacksmith. 

“Well, I knew he would too! It didn’t need a prophet nor 
one to rise from the dead to tell us that Ishmael would be true 
to his old friends,” said Hannah, pushing Reuben away and 
embracing Ishmael with a 

“ How do you do, my boy ? You look better than I expected 
to see you after your hard year’s work.” 

“ Oh, I am all right, thank you, Aunt Hannah. Coming to 
see you has set me up ! ” laughed Ishmael, cordially returning 
her embrace. 

“You, Sally! what are you doing there? grinning like a 
monkey? Go directly and make the kettle boil, and set the 
table. And tell that Jim, that’s always loafing around you, 
to make himself useful as well as ornamental, and open them 
oysters that were brought from Cove Banks to-day. Why don’t 
you go ? what are you waiting for ? ” 

“Please ’m, I hav’n’t shook hands long o’ Marse Ishmael 
yet,” said Sally, showing all her fine ivories. 

Ishmael stepped forward and held out his hand, saying, as he 
kindly shook the girl’s fat paw: 

“ How do you do, Sally? You grow better looking every day! 
And I have got a pretty coral breastpin in my trunk for you, 
to make up for that one the shanghai swallowed.” 

“ Oh, Marse Ishmael, you needn’t have taken no trouble, not 
on my account, sir, I am sure ; dough I’m thousand times obleege 
to you, and shall be proud o’ de breas’pin, ’cause I does love 
breas’pins, ’specially coral,” said Sally, courtesying and smiling 
all over her face. 


40 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

“Well, well,” said Hannah impatiently, “now be off with 
you directly, and show your thankfulness by getting supper for 
your Marse Ishmael as quick as ever you can. Never mind 
the table — ^I’U set that.” 

Sally dropped another courtesy and vanished. 

“Where did you say your trunk was, Ishmael?” inquired 
Gray, as they walked into the house. 

“ He never said it was anywhere ; he only said he had a coral 
breastpin in it for Sally,” put in the literal Hannah. 

“My trunk is at the Steamboat Hotel in Shelton, Uncle 
Reuben. I could not at once find a cart to bring it over, for 
I was too anxious to see you all to spend time looking for one. 
So I left it with the landlord, with orders to forward it on 
Monday;” 

“ Oh, sho! And what are you to do in the meantime? And 
Sally ’ll go crazy for a sight of her breastpin! So I’ll just go 
out and make Sam put the horse to the light wagon, and go right 
arter it; he’ll jest have time to go and get it and come back 
afore it’s dark,” said Reuben ; and without waiting to hear any 
of Ishmael’s remonstrances, he went out immediately to give 
his orders to Sam. 

Hannah followed Ishmael up to his own old room in the 
garret, to see that he had fresh water, fine soap, clean towels, 
and all that was requisite for his comfort. 

And then leaving him to refresh himself with a wash, she 
returned downstairs to set the table for tea. 

By the time she had laid her best damask table-cloth, and 
set out her best japan waiter and china tea-set, and put her 
nicest preserves in cut glass saucers, and set the iced plumcake 
in the middle of the table, Ishmael, looking fresh from his re- 
newed toilet, came down into the parlor. 

She immediately drew forward the easiest arm-chair for his 
accommodation. 

He sat down in it and called the two children and the dog, 
who all gathered around him for their share of his caresses. 

And at the same moment Reuben, having dispatched Sam 
on his errand to Shelton, came in and sat down, with his big 
hands on his knees, and his head bent forward, contemplating 
the group around Ishmael with immense satisfaction. 

Hannah was going in and out between the parlor and the 
pantry bringing cream, butter, butter-milk, and so forth. 

Ishmael lifted John upon his knees, and while smoothing 


Al" WOODSIBU. 41 

back tbe flaxen curls from the child’s well-shaped forehead, 
said: 

“ This little fellow has got a great deal in this head of his I 
What do you intend to make of him, Uncle Reuben?” 

“ Law, Ishmael, how can I tell ! ” grinned Reuben. 

‘‘You should give him an education and fit him for one of 
the learned professions ; or, no ; I will do that, if Heaven spares 
us both ! ” said Ishmael benevolently ; then smiling down upon 
the child, he said: 

“What would you like to be when you grow up, Johnny?” 

“I don’t know,” answered inexperience. 

“Would you like to be a lawyer?” 

“ No.” 

“ Why not? ” 

“ ’Cause I wouldn’t.” 

“ Satisfactory! Would you like to be a doctor?” 

“ No.” 

“Why?” 

“ ’Cause I wouldn’t.” 

“ ‘As before.’ Would you like to be a parson? ” 

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“’Cause I wouldn’t.” 

“ Sharp little fellow, isn’t he, Ishmael ? Got his answer al- 
ways ready ! ” said the father, rubbing his knees in delight. 

Ishmael smiled at Reuben Gray and then turned to the child 
and said: 

“ What would you like to be, J ohnny ? ” 

“ Well, I’d like to be a cart-driver like Sam, and drive the ox 
team ! ” 

“ Aspiring young gentleman 1 ” said Ishmael, smiling. 

“ There now,” said Hannah, who had heard the latter part of 
this conversation, “that’s what I tell Reuben. He needn’t 
think he is going to make ladies and gentlemen out of our 
children. They are just good honest workman’s children, and 
will always be so ; for ‘ what’s bred in the bone will never come 
out in the flesh’; and ‘trot mammy, trot daddy, the colt will 
never pace.’ Cart-driver ! ” mocked Hannah, in intense disgust. 

“ Nonsense, Aunt Hannah ! Why, don’t you know that when 
I was Johnny’s age my highest earthly ambition was to become 
a professor of odd jobs, like the renowned Jim Morris, who 
iwas certainly the greatest man of my acquaintance ! ” 


42 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

While they were chatting away in this manner Sally brought 
in the coffee and tea, which was soon followed by dishes of 
fried oysters, stewed oysters, fried ham, and broiled chicken, 
and plates of waffles, rolls, and biscuits, and in fact by all the 
luxuries of a Maryland supper. 

Hannah took her place at the head of the table and called 
her family around her. 

And all sat down at the board. Even the dog squatted himself 
down by the side of Ishmael, where he knew he was sure of good 
treatment. Sally, neatly dressed, waited on the table. And 
presently Jim, who had a holiday this Saturday evening and was 
spending it with Sally, came in, and after shaking hands with 
^‘Mr. Ishmael” and welcoming him to the neighborhood, stood 
behind his chair and anticipated his w’ants as if he, Jim, had 
been lord-in-waiting upon a prince. 

When supper was over and the service cleared away, Ishmael, 
Heuben, Hannah, and the children, who had been allowed to 
sit up a little longer in honor of Ishmael’s visit, gathered to- 
gether on the front porch to enjoy the delicious coolness of the 
clear, starlit, summer evening. 

While they were still sitting there, chatting over the old 
times and the new days, the sound of wheels were heard ap- 
proaching, and Sam drove up in the wagon, in which was Ish- 
maeFs trunk dnd a large box. 

Jim was called in from the kitchen, where he had been en- 
gaged in making love to Sally, to assist in lifting the luggage in. 

The trunk and the box were deposited in the middle of the 
parlor floor to be opened, — because, forsooth, all that simple 
family wished to be present and look on at the opening. 

Ishmael’s personal effects were in the trunk they guessed; 
but what was in the box? that was the riddle and they could 
not solve it. Both the children pressed forward to see. Even 
the dog stood with his ears pricked, his nose straight and his 
eyes fixed on the interesting box as though he expected a fox 
to break cover from it as soon as it was opened. 

Ishmael had mercy on their curiosity and ended their sus- 
pense by ripping off the cover. 

And lo! a handsome hobby-horse which he took out and set 
up before the delighted eyes of Johnny. 

He lifted the tiny man into the saddle, fixed his feet in the 
stirrups, gave him the bridle, and showed him how to manage 
his steed. 


AT WOODSIDE. 


43 


“ There, J ohnny,” said Ishmael, “ I cannot realize your aspi- 
rations in respect to the driver’s seat on the ox-cart, but I 
think this will do for the present.” 

“ Ah, yes ! ” cried the ecstatic J ohnny, “ put Molly up be- 
hind ! put Molly up behind and let her sit and hold on to me ! 
My horse can carry double.” 

“ Never mind ! I’ve got something for Molly that she will 
like better than that,” said Ishmael, smiling kindly on the little 
girl, who stood with her finger in her mouth looking as if she 
thought herself rather neglected. 

And he unlocked his trunk and took from the top of it a 
large, finely painted, substantially dressed wooden doll, that 
looked as if it could bear a great deal of knocking about with- 
out injury. 

Molly made an impulsive spring towards -ns treasure, and 
was immediately rendered happy by its possession. 

Then Sally was elevated to the seventh heaven by the gift of 
the coral breastpin. 

Hannah received a handsome brown silk dress and Eeuben 
a new writing-desk, and Sam a silver watch, and Jim a showy 
vest-pattern. 

And Ishmael, having distributed his presents, ordered his 
trunk to be carried upstairs, and the box into the outhouse. 

When the children were tired of their play Hannah took them 
off to hear them say their prayers and put them to bed. 

And then Ishmael and Eeuben were left alone. 

And the opportunity that Ishmael wanted had come. 

He could have spoken of his parents to either Hannah or 
Eeuben separately ; but he felt that he could not enter upon the 
subject in the presence of both together. 

Now he drew his chair to the side of Gray and said: 

“ Uncle Eeuben, I have something serious to say to you.” 

Eh ! Ishmael ! what have I been doing of ? I dessay some- 
thing wrong in the bringing up of the young uns ! ” said Eeu- 
ben, in dismay, expecting to be ^court-martialed upon some 
grave charge. 

“ It is of my parents that I wish to speak. Uncle Eeuben.’^ 

“ Oh ! ” said the latter, with an air of relief. 

“You knew my mother. Uncle Eeuben; but did you know 
who my father was ? ” 

“ No,” said Eeuben thoughtfully. “ All I knowed was as 
he married of your mother in a private manner, and from sar- 


44 SELJ'-EAISEI) ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

cumstances never owned up to it ; but left her name and youfn 
to suffer for it — the cowardly rascal, whoever he was ! ” 

“Hush, Uncle Eeuben, hush! You are speaking of my 
father!” 

“ And a nice father he wur to let your good mother’s fair 
name come to grief and leave you to perish a’most ! ” 

“Uncle Eeuben, you know too little of the circumstances 
to be able to judge ! ” 

“Law, Ishmael, it takes but little knowledge and less judg- 
ment to understand, as when a feller fersakes his wife and 
child for nothink, and leaves ’em to suffer undesarved scandal 
and cruel want, he must be an unnatural monster and a par- 
jured vilyun ! ” 

“Uncle Eeuben, you are unjust to my father! You must 
listen to his vindication from my lips, and then you will acquit 
him of all blame. But first I must tell you in confidence his 
name — it is Herman Brudenell ! ” 

“ There now ! ” exclaimed Eeuben, dropping his pipe in his 
astonishment; “to think that I had that fact right afore my 
eyes all my life and never could see it! Well, of all the blind 
moles and owls, I must a been the blindest! And to think as 
I was the very first as warned the poor girl agin him at that 
birthday feast ! But, law, arter that I never saw them together 
agin, no, not once! So I had no cause to s’picion him, no more 
nor others! Well and now, Ishmael, tell me all how and about 
it! Long as it was him, Mr. Herman, there must a been some- 
thing uncommon about it, for I don’t believe he’d do anythink 
dishonorable, not if he knowed it ! ” 

“Hot if he knew it! You are right there. Uncle Eeuben,” 
said Ishmael, who immediately related the tragic story of his 
parents’ marriage, ending with the family wreck that had ruined 
all their happiness. 

“ Dear me ! dear, dear me ! what a sorrowful story for all 
hands, to be sure! Well, Ishmael, whoever was most to be 
pitied in former times, your father is most to be pitied now. 
Be good to him,” said Eeuben. 

“ You may be sure that I will do all that I can to comfort my 
father. Uncle Eeuben. And now a word to you ! Speak of this 
matter to me alone whenever you like ; or to Aunt Hannah alone 
whenever you like; but to no others; and not even to us when 
we are together! for I cannot bear that this old tragic history 
should become the subject of general conversation.” 


AT WOODSIDE. 45 

I know, Ishmael, my boy, I know ! Mum’s the word ! ” 
said Reuben. 

And the entrance of Hannah at that moment put an end tQ 
the conversation. 

There was one subject upon which Ishmael felt a little un' 
easiness — the dread of meeting Claudia. 

He knew that she was not expected at Tanglewood until the 
first of October; for so the judge had informed him in a letter 
that he had received the very night before he left Washington. 
And this was only the first of September; and he intended to 
give himself but two weeks’ holiday and to be back at his office 
by the fourteenth at farthest, full sixteen days before the ex- 
pected arrival of Lord and Lady Vincent at Tanglewood. 

Yet this dread of meeting Claudia haunted him. His love 
was dead ; but as he had told Bee, it had died hard and rent his 
heart in its death-struggles, and that heart was sore to the touch 
of her presence. 

The judge’s letter wherein he had spoken of the date of his 
daughter and son-in-law’s visit had been written several days 
previous to this evening, and since that, news might have come 
from them, speaking of some change of plan, involving an ear- 
lier visit. 

These Ishmael felt were the mere chimeras of imagination. 
Still he thought he would inquire concerning the family at 
Tanglewood. 

“ They are all well up at the house, I hope, TJncle Reuben ? ” 
he asked. 

^‘Famous! And having everything shined up bright as a 
new shilling, in honor of the arrival of my lord and my lady, 
who are expected, come first o’ next mont’.” 

“ On the first of October ? Are you sure ? ” 

“ On the first of October, sharp ! Hot a day earlier or later ! 
I was up to the house yes’day afternoon, just afore you come; 
and sure enough the judge, he had just got a letter from the 
young madam, — my lady, I mean, — in which she promised not 
to disappoint him, but to be at Tanglewood punctually on the 
first of October to a day ! ” 

Reuben, a hard-working man, who was early to bed and 
early to rise,” concluded this speech with such an awful, un- 
compromising yawn that Ishmael immediately took up and 
lighted his bedroom candle, bid them all good-night, and re- 
tired. 


46 


self-raised; or, from the depths. 

He was once more in the humble little attic room where he 
had first chanced upon a set of old law books and imbibed a taste 
for the legal profession. 

There was the old ^^screwtaw,” as Reuben called it, and 
there was the old well-thumbed volumes that had constituted 
his sole wealth of books before he had the range of the well- 
filled library at Tanglewood. 

And there was the plain deal table standing within the dor- 
mer window, where he had been accustomed to sit and read 
and write; or, whenever he raised his head, to gaze out upon the 
ocean-like expanse of water near the mouth of the Potomac. 

After all, this humble attic chamber had many points of re- 
semblance with that more pretentious one he had occupied in 
Judge Merlin^s elegant mansion in Washington. Both were on 
the north side of the Potomac. Each had a large dormer window 
looking southwest and commanding an extensive view of the 
river; within the recess of each window he had been accus- 
tomed to sit and read or write. 

The only difference was that the window in the Washington 
attic looked down upon the great city and the winding of the 
river among wooded and rolling hills; while the window of the 
cottage here looked down upon broad fields sloping to the shore, 
and upon the vast sea-like expanse of water stretching out of 
sight under the distant horizon. 

The comparison between his two study-windows was in Ish- 
maePs mind as he stood gazing upon the shadowy green fields 
and the starlit sky and water. 

Not long he stood there; he was weary with his journey; so 
he offered up his evening prayers and went to bed and to 
sleep. 

Early in the morning he awoke, and arose to enjoy the beauty 
of a summer Sunday in the quiet country. It was a deliciously 
cool, bright, beautiful autumnal morning. 

Ishmael looked out over land and water for a little while, and 
then quickly dressed himself, offered up his morning prayers 
and went below. 

The family were already assembled in the parlor, and all 
greeted him cordially. 

The table was set, and Sally, neat in her Sunday clothes and 
splendid in her coral brooch, was waiting ready to bring in the 
breakfast. 

And a fine breakfast it was, of frag nt coffee, rich cream. 


AT TANGLEWOOD. 47 

fresh butter, Indian com bread, Maryland biscuits, broiled 
birds, boiled crabs, etc. 

And Ishmael, upon whom the salt sea air of the coast was 
already producing a healthful change, did ample justice to the 
luxuries spread before him. 

“For church this morning, Ishmael?” inquired Reuben. 
“Yes; but I must walk over to Tanglewood and go with the 
judge. He would scarcely ever forgive me if I were to go any- 
where, even to church, before visiting him.” 

“Ho more he wouldn’t, that’s a fact,” admitted Reuben. 


CHAPTER Vn. 

AT TANGLEWOOD. 


Are not the forests, waves and skies, a part 
Of me and of my soul as I of them? 

Is not the love of these deep in my heart 
With a pure passion? Should I not contemn 
All objects if compared with these ? and stem 
A tide of sufferings, rather than forego 
Such feelings for the hard and worldly phlegm 
Of those whose eyes are only turned below. 

Gazing upon the ground, with thoughts that dare not glow? 

— Byron. 

After breakfast Ishmael took his hat, and, promising to re- 
turn in the evening, set out for Tanglewood to spend the day 
and go to church with the judge. 

How he enjoyed that Sunday morning walk through the 
depths of the forest that lay between Woodside and Tan- 
glewood. 

He reached the house just as the judge had finished break- 
fast. He was shown into the room while the old man still 
lingered in sheer listlessness over his empty cup and plate. 

“ Eh, Ishmael ! is that you, my boy ? Lord bless my soul, how^ 
glad I am to see you! Old Jacob was never so glad to see 
Joseph as I am to see you! ” was the greeting of the judge, as 
he started up, overturning his chair and seizing both his visi- 
tor’s hands and shaking them vigorously. 

“And I am very glad indeed to see you again, sir! I hope 
you have been well?” said Ishmael warmly, returning his 
greeting. 


48 SELl -RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS, 

“Well? Hum, ha, how can I be well? What is that the 
poet says? 

“ ‘ What stamps the wrinkle deepest on the brow, 

It is to be alone as I am now! ’ 

I miss Claudia, Ishmael. I miss her sadly.” 

“ Lady Vincent will be with you soon, sir,” observed Ishmael, 
in as steady a voice as he could command. 

“ Yes, she will come on the first of October and stop with me 
for a month. So her letter of Wednesday received yesterday 
says. And then I shall lose her forever ! ” complained the 
judge, with a deep sigh. ^ 

“Ah, but you must look on the bright side, sir! You are in- 
dependent. You have time and money at your own disposal; 
and no very strong ties here. You can visit Lady Vincent as 
often and stay with her as long as you please,” smiled Ishmael 
cheerfully. 

“ Why, so I can I I never thought of that before ! I may 
certainly pass at least half my time with my daughter if 1 
please ! ” exclaimed the old man, brightening up. 

“ Are you going to church this morning, sir ? ” inquired 
Ishmael. 

“You are, of course!” said the judge; “for you take care 
never to miss morning service ! So I must go ! ” 

“Hot on my account. I know the road,” smiled Ishmael. 

“ Oh, in any case I should go. I promised to go and dine at 
the parsonage, so as to attend afternoon service also. And 
when I mentioned to Mr. Wynne that I was expecting you 
down he requested me, if you arrived in time, to bring you with 
me, as he was desirous of forming your acquaintance. So you 
see, Ishmael, your fame is spreading.” 

“I am very grateful to you and to Mr. Wynne,” said Ish- 
mael, as his heart suddenly thrilled to the memory that 
Wynne was the name of the minister who had united his 
parents in their secret marriage. 

“Has Mr. Wynne been long in this parish?” he inquired. 

“ Some three or four months, I believe. This is his native 
State, however. He used to be stationed at the Baymouth 
church, but left it some years ago to go as a missionary to 
Farther India; but as of late his health failed, he returned 
home and accepted the call to take charge of this parish.” 

Ishmael looked wistfully in the face of the judge and said : 


AT TANGLEWOOD. 49 

was very kind in Mr. Wynne to think of inviting me. 
Why do you suppose he did it ? ” 

“ Why, I really do suppose that the report of your splendid 
successes in Washington has reached him, and he feels some 
curiosity to see a young man who in so short a time has attained 
so high a position.” 

“No, it is not that,” said Ishmael, with a genuine blush at 
this great praise ; “ but do you really not know what it is ? ” 

“ I do not, unless it is what I said,” replied the judge, rais- 
ing his eyebrows. 

“ He married my parents, and baptized me ; he knows that 
I bear my mother’s maiden name ; and he was familiar with my 
early poverty and struggles for life; he left the neighborhood 
when I was about eight years old,” said Ishmael, in a low voice. 

The judge opened his eyes and drooped his head for a few 
moments, and then said : 

“ Indeed ! Your father, when he told me of his marriage 
with your mother, did not mention the minister’s name. Every- 
thing else, I believe, he candidly revealed to me, under the 
seal of confidence; this omission was accidental, and really 
unimportant. But how surprised Brudenell will be to learn 
that his old friend and confidant is stationed here.” 

“ Yes.” / 

“ And now I can thoroughly understand the great interest 
Mr. Wynne feels in you. It is not every minister who is the 
confidant in such a domestic tragedy as that of your poor 
mother was, Ishmael. It is not only the circumstances of 
your birth that interest him in you so much, but those taken 
in connection with your recent successes. I should advise you 
to meet Mr. Wynne’s advances.” 

“ I shall gratefully do so, sir.” 

“ And now I really do suppose it is time to order the carriage, 
if we mean to go to church to-day,” said the judge, rising and 
touching the bell. 

Jim answered it. 

“Have the gray horses put to the barouche and brought 
around. And put a case of that old port wine in the box; I 
intend to take it as a present to the parson. I always con- 
sidered port a parsonic wine, and it really is in this case just 
the thing for an invalid,” said the judge, turning to Ishmael as 
Jim left the room. 

In twenty minutes the carriage was ready, and they started 


50 


SELF-EAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

for the church, which was some five miles distant. An hour’s 
drive brought them to it. 

A picturesque scene that old St. Mary’s church presented. It 
was situated in a clearing of the forest beside the turnpike 
road. It was built of red brick, and boasted twelve gothic win- 
dows and a tall steeple. The church-yard was fenced in with 
a low brick wall, and had some interesting old tombstones, 
whose dates were coeval with the first settlement of the State. 

Many carriages of every description, from the barouche of 
the gentleman to the cart of the laborer, were scattered about, 
drawn up under the shade of the trees. And saddle-horses and 
donkeys were tied here and there. And groups of negroes, in 
their gay Sunday attire, stood gossiping among the trees. 
Some young men, as usual, were loitering at the church door. 

The judge’s carriage drew up under the shade of a forest 
tree, and the judge and Ishmael then alighted, and leaving the 
horses in the care of the coachman went into the church. 

The congregation were already assembled, and soon after 
Judge Merlin and his guest took their seats the minister en- 
tered and took his place at the reading-desk and the services 
commenced. 

There was little in this Sunday morning’s service to dis- 
tinguish it from others of the same sort. The minister was a 
good man and a plodding country parson. He read the morn- 
ing prayers in a creditable but by no means distinguished 
manner. And he preached a sermon, more remarkable for its 
practical bearing than for its eloquence or originality, his 
text being in these words : “ F aith without works is dead.” 

At the conclusion of the services, while the congregation were 
leaving the church, the minister descended from his pulpit and 
advanced towards J udge Merlin, who was also hastening to meet 
his pastor. 

There was a shaking of hands. 

Judge Merlin, who was an eminently practical man in all 
matters but one, complimented the preacher on his practical 
sermon. 

And then without waiting to hear Mr. Wynne’s disclaimer, 
he beckoned Ishmael to step forward, and the usual formula 
of introduction was performed. 

“Mr. Wynne, permit me — Mr. Worth, Mr. Wynne!” 

And then were two simultaneous bows and more hand- 
shaking. 


AT TANGLEWOOD. 51 

But both, the judge and Ishmael noticed the wistful look 
with which the latter was regarded by the minister. 

“He is comparing likenesses,” thought the judge. 

“He is thinking of the past and present,” thought Ishmael. 

And both were right. 

Mr. Wynne saw in Ishmael the likeness to both his parents, 
and noted how happily nature had distinguished him with the 
best points of each. And he was wondering at the miracle of 
seeing that the all-forsaken child, born to poverty, shame, and 
obscurity, was by the Lord’s blessing on his own persevering 
efforts certainly rising to wealth, honor, and fame. 

Mr. Wynne renewed his pressing invitation to Judge Merlin 
and Mr. Worth to accompany him home to dinner. 

And as they accepted the minister’s hospitality the whole 
party moved off towards the parsonage, which was situated 
in another clearing of the forest about a quarter of a mile 
behind the church. 

The parson was blessed with the parson’s luck of a large 
family, consisting of a wife, several sisters and sisters-in-law, 
and nieces, and so many sons and daughters of all ages, from 
one month old to twenty years, that the judge, after counting 
thirteen before he came to the end of the list, gave up the job 
in despair. 

Notwithstanding, or perhaps because of, this, for “ the more, 
the merrier,” you know, the family dinner passed off pleasantly. 
And after dinner they all returned to church to attend the 
afternoon service. 

And when that was ended Judge Merlin and Ishmael took 
leave of the parson and his family and returned home. 

When they reached Tanglewood and alighted, the judge, who 
was first out, was accosted by his servant Jim, who spoke a few 
words in a low tone, which had the effect of hurrying the judge 
into the house. 

Ishmael followed at his leisure. 

He entered the drawing room and was walking slowly and 
thoughtfully up and down the room, when the sound of voices 
in the adjoining library caught his ear and transfixed him to 
the spot. 

“Yes, papa, I am here, and alone — strange as this may 
seem ! ” 

It was the voice of Claudia that spoke these words. 


62 


SELF-EAISEB ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

WHY CLAUDIA WAS ALONE. 

Be not amazed at life. ’Tis still 
The mode of God with his elect: 

Their hopes exactly to fulfill, 

In times and ways they least expect. 

Who marry as they choose, and choose, 

Not as they ought, they mock the priest, 

And leaving out obedience, lose 
The finest flavor of the feast. 

—Coventry Patmore. 

Islunael stood transfixed to the spot — ^for a moment, and then, 
breaking the spell with which the sound of Claudia’s voice 
had bound him, he passed into the hall, took his hat from the 
rack, and said to Jim, who was still in attendance there: 

Give my respects to your master, and say that I have an 
engagement this evening that obliges me to withdraw. And give 
him my adieus.” 

But, Mr. Ishmael, sir, you will wait for tea. Lady Vincent 

is here, sir, just arrived ” began Jim, with the affectionate 

freedom of a petted servant. 

But Ishmael had left the hall, to keep his promise of spend- 
ing the evening with Reuben and Hannah. 

Claudia, standing by her father’s side in the library, had 
also heard the sound of Ishmael’s voice, as he spoke to the serv- 
ant in the hall; and she suddenly ceased talking and looked 
as if turned to stone. 

“Why, what is the matter, my dear?” inquired the judge, 
surprised at the panic into which she had been cast, 

“ Papa, he here ! ” she said. 

“Who?” 

“ Ishmael ! ” 

“Yes. Why?” 

“ Papa, make some excuse and get rid of him. I must not, 
cannot, will not, meet him now ! ” she exclaimed, in a half 
breathless voice of ill-suppressed excitement. 

The judge looked at his daughter wistfully, painfully, for 
a moment, and then, as something like the truth in regard to 
Claudia’s feelings broke upon him, he replied very gravely: 

“My dear, you need not meet him; and he has saved me 


WHY CLAUDIA WAS ALOTLE. 53 

the embarrassment of sending him away. He has gone, if I 
mistake not.” 

“ If you ‘ mistake ’ not. There must be no question of this, 
sir ! See ! and if he has ndt gone, tell him to go directly ! ” 
Claudia!” 

Oh, papa, I am nearly crazy ! Go ! ” 

The judge stepped out into the hall and made the necessary 
inquiries. 

And Jim gave IshmaeFs message. 

With this the judge returned to Claudia. 

“ He is gone. And now, my dear, I wish to know why it is 
that you are here alone? I never in my life heard of such a 
thing. Where is Vincent?” 

“Papa, I am nearly fainting with fatigue. Will you ring 
for one of the women to show Euth my room? I suppose I 
have my old one ? ” she said, throwing herself back in her 
chair. 

“Why — no, my dear; I fancy I saw Katie and the maids 
decorating the suite of rooms on the opposite side of the hall 
on this floor for you. I’ll see.” 

“ Anywhere, anywhere — ^ out of the world,’ ” sighed Claudia, 
as the judge sharply rang the bell. 

Jim answered it. 

“ Tell Katie to show Lady Vincent’s maid to her ladyship’s 
chamber, and do you see the luggage taken there.” 

Jim bowed and turned to go. 

“ Stop,” said the judge. “ Claudia, my dear, what refresh- 
ment will you take before going up? A glass of wine? a cup 
of tea ? ” he inquired, looking anxiously upon the harassed 
countenance and languid figure of his daughter. 

“ A cup of coffee, papa, if they have any ready ; if not, any- 
thing they can bring quickest.” 

“A cup of coffee for Lady Vincent in one minute, ready or 
not ready 1 ” was the somewhat unreasonable command of the 
judge. 

Jim disappeared to deliver all his master’s orders. 

And it seemed that the coffee was ready, for he almost im- 
mediately reappeared bearing a tray with the service arranged 
upon it. 

“Is it strong, Jim?” inquired Claudia, as she raised the cup 
to her lips. 

“Yes, miss — ma’am — my ladyship, I mean!” said poor Jim, 


54 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

who was excessively bothered by Claudia’s new title and the 
changes that were rung upon it. 

The coffee must have been strong, to judge by its effects 
upon Claudia. 

“ Take it away,” she said, after having drunk two cupfuls. 

Papa, I feel better ; and while Ruth is unpacking my clothes 
I may just aS well sit here and tell you why, if indeed I really 
know why, I am here alone. We were at Niagara, where we had 
intended to remain throughout this month of September. All 
the world seemed to know where we were and how long we in- 
tended to stay; for you are aware how absurdly we democratic 
and republican Americans worship rank and title ; and how cer- 
tain our reporters would be to chronicle the movements of Lord 
and Lady Vincent,” said Claudia, with that air of world-scorn 
and self-scorn in which she often indulged. 

“ Well, Lady Vincent cannot consistently find fault with 
that,” said the judge, with a covert smile. 

Because Lady Vincent shares the folly or has shared it,” 
said Claudia; “but Lord Vincent did find fault with it; great 
fault — much greater fault than was necessary, I thought, and 
grumbled incessantly at our custom of registering names at the 
hotels, and, at ‘American snobbery and impertinence’ gen- 
erally.” 

“ Bless his impudence ! Who sent for him ? ” 

“Papa, we should have quarreled upon this subject in our 
honeymoon, if I had had respect enough for him to hold any 
controversy with him.” 

“ Claudia!” 

“Well, I cannot help it, papa! I must speak out somewhere 
and to someone! Where so well as here in the woods; and to 
whom so well as to you ? ” 

“You have not yet told me why you are here alone. And 
I assure you, Claudia, that the fact gives me uneasiness; it 
is unusual — unprecedented ! ” 

“I am telling- you, papa. One morning while we were still 
at Niagara I was sitting alone in our private parlor, when our 
mail was brought in — your letter for me, and three letters for 
‘my lord.’ Of the latter, the first bore the postmark of Banff, 
the second that of Liverpool, and the third that of New York. 
They were all superscribed by the same hand ; all were evidently 
from the same person. After turning them over and over in 
my hand, and in my mind, I came to the conclusion that the 


WHY CLAUDIA WAS ALONE. 


55 


first dated was written to announce the writer as starting upon 
a journey; the second to announce the embarkment at Liver- 
pool; and the third the arrival at New York; and that these 
letters, though posted at different times and places, had by the 
irregularities of the ocean mails happened to arrive at their 
final destination the same day. Lord Vincent has a mother 
and several sisters; yet I felt very sure that the letters never 
came from either of them, because in fact I had seen the hand- 
writing of each in their letters to him. While I was still won- 
dering over these rather mysterious letters my lord lounged into 
the room. 

“ I handed him the letters, the Banff one being on the top. 
As soon as he saw the handwriting he gave vent to various ex- 
clamations of annoyance, such as I had never heard fi:om a gen- 
tleman, and scarcely ever expected to hear from a lord. ‘ Bosh ! ’ 
‘ Bother ! ’ ^ Here’s a go ! ’ ‘ Set fire to her,’ etc., being among 
the most harmless and refined. But presently he saw the post- 
marks of Liverpool and New York on the other letters, and, 
after tearing them open and devouring their contents, he gave 
way to a fury of passion that positively appalled me. Papa, he 
swore and cursed like a pirate in a storm ! ” 

“ At you ? ” 

^^At me? I think not,” answered Claudia haughtily; “but 
at some person or persons unknown. However, as he forgot him- 
self so far as to give vent to his passion in my presence, I got 
up and retired to my chamber. Presently he came in, grace- 
fully apologized for his violence, — did not explain the cause 
of it, however, — but requested me to give orders for the packing 
of our trunks and be ready to leave for New York in one hour.” 

“ Did he give you no reason for his sudden movement ? ” 

“Not until I inquired; then he gave me the general, con- 
venient, unsatisfactory reason ^business.’ In an hour we were 
off to New York. But now, papa, comes the singular part of 
the affair. When we reached the city, instead of driving to one 
of the best hotels, as had always been his custom, he drove to 
quite an inferior place, and registered our names — ‘ Captain 
and Mrs. J enkins.’ ” 

“What on earth did he do that for?” 

“ How can I tell ? When I made the same inquiry of him he 
merely answered that he was tired of being trumpeted to the 
world by these ‘ impertinent Yankee reporters ! ’ The next day 
he left me alone in that stupid place and went out on his ‘ busi- 


56 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

ness/ whatevea* that was. And when he returned in the even- 
ing he told me that the ‘ business ’ was happily concluded, and 
that we might as well go on to Washington and Tanglewood to 
pay our promised visit to you. I very readily acceded to that 
proposition, for, papa, I was pining to see you.” 

“ My dear child ! ” said the judge, with emotion. 

“ So next morning we started for the Philadelphia, Balti- 
more, and Washington station. We were in good time, and were 
just comfortably seated in one of the best cars when Lord Vin- 
cent caught sight of someone on the platform. And papa, with 
a muttered curse he started up and hurried from the car, 
throwing behind to me the hasty words, ‘I’ll be back soon.’ 
Pive, ten, fifteen minutes passed, and he did not come. And 
while I was still anxiously looking for him the train started. 
It was the express, and came all the way through. And that is 
why myself and attendants are here alone.” 

“All this seems very strange, Claudia,” said the judge, with 
a troubled countenance. 

“Yes, very.” 

“What do you make of it? Of course you, knowing more 
of the circumstances, are better able to judge than I am.” 

“Papa, I do not know.” 

“ Who was it that he caught sight of on the platform ? ” 

“A tall, handsome, imperious-looking woman between thirty 
and forty years of age, I should say; a sort of Cleopatra; very 
dark, very richly dressed. She was looking at him intently when 
he caught sight of her and rushed out as I said.” 

“ And you can make nothing of it ? ” 

“Nothing. I do not know whether he missed the train by 
design or accident; or whether he is at this moment on board 
the cars steaming to Washington or on board one of the ocean 
packets steaming to Liverpool.” 

“A bad, bad business, Claudia; all this grieves me much. 
You have been but two months married, and you return to me 
alone and your husband is among the missing; a bad, bad 
business, Claudia,” said the judge very gravely. 

“ Not so bad as your words would seem to imply, papa. At 
least I hope not. I am inclined to think the detention was ac- 
cidental; and that Lord Vincent will arrive by the next boat,” 
said Claudia. 

“ But how coolly and dispassionately you speak of an uncer- 
tainty that would drive any other woman almost mad. At this 


WHY CLAUDIA WAS ALONE. 


67 

moment you do not know whether you are abandoned or not, 
and to be candid with you, you do not seem to care,” said the 
judge austerely. 

P apa, what I paid down my liberty for, — this rank, I mean — 
is safe! And so whether he goes or stays I am Lady Vincent; 
and nothing but death can prevent my becoming Countess of 
Hurstmonceux and a peeress of England,” said Claudia defi- 
antly, as she arose and drew her shawl around her shoulders 
and looked about herself. 

‘^What is it that you want, my dear?” inquired the judge. 

‘‘Nothing. I was taking a view of the old familiar objects. 
How much has happened since I saw them last. It seems to me 
as if many years had passed since that time. Well, papa, I 
suppose Euth has unpacked and put away my clothes by this 
time, and so I will leave you for the present.” 

And with a weary, listless air Claudia left the room and 
turned to go upstairs. 

“Not there, not there, my dear, I told you. The rooms on 
this floor have been prepared for you,” said the judge, who had 
followed her to the door. 

With a sigh Claudia turned and crossed the hall and entered 
the “parlor-chamber,” as the large bedroom adjoining the 
morning room was called. 

Euth was hanging the last dresses in the wardrobe, and Jim 
was shouldering the last empty trunk to take it away. 

“I have left out the silver gray glace, for you to wear this 
evening, if you please, my lady,” said Euth, indicating the dress 
that lay upon the bed. 

“ That will do, Euth,” answered her mistress, whose thoughts 
were now not on dresses, but on that time when Ishmael, for 
her sake, lay wounded, bleeding, and almost dying on that very 
bed. 


58 


SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 


CHAPTER IX. 

HOLIDAY. 

Ha! like a kind hand on my brow 
Comes this fresh breeze, 

Cooling its dull and feverish glow, 

While through my being seems to flow 
The breath of a new life — the healing of the seas. 

Good-by to pain and care! I take 
Mine ease to-day; 

Here where these sunny waters break, 

And ripples this keen breeze, I shake 
All burdens from the heart, all weary thoughts away. 

With e.very nerve, vein, and artery throbbing with excitement 
Ishmael hurried away from the house that contained Claudia. 

The solitary walk through the thick woods calmed his emo- 
tion before he reached Woodside. 

He found a tidy room, a tempting tea-table, and smiling 
faces waiting to welcome him. 

“ That’s my boy ! ” exclaimed Reuben, coming forward and 
grasping his hand; ^‘1 tolled Hannah to keep the tea back a 
spell, ’cause I knowed you wouldn’t disappoint us.” 

As if I ever thought you would, Ishmael ! Reuben is always 
prophesying things that can’t fail to come true, like the rising 
of the sun in the east every day, and so forth. And he expects 
to get credit for his foresight,” said Hannah, taking her seat 
before the steaming tea-pot and calling upon the others to sit 
down. 

“ Well, that was rayther a surprise, as met you and the judge, 
when you corned home from church, wasn’t it ? ” inquired Reu- 
ben, as he began to cut slices from the cold ham. 

“You knew of the arrival, then?” questioned Ishmael. 

“ Why, bless you, yes ! Why, laws, you know the carriage 
passed right by here, and stopped to water the horses afore 
going on to Tanglewood. But look here! There was nobody 
in it but Mrs. Vincent — ^blame my head— --I mean Mrs. Lord 
Vincent — and her city maid.” 

“ Lady Vincent, Reuben. How many times will I have to 
tell you that?” said Hannah impatiently. 

“All right, Hannah, my dear; I’ll remember next time. 
Ishmael, my boy, I think you got all your interlects from Han- 
nah. You sartainly didn’t get ’em from me. Well, as I was 


HOLIDAY. 


59 


a-saying of, there was no one inside except Mrs. Lord — I mean 
Mrs. Lady Vincent and her city waiting-maid. And on the out- 
side, a-sitting alongside o’ the driver, was a gentleman, as Jim 
as happened to be here introduced to me as Mr. Frisbie, Lord 
Vincent’s vallysham, whatever that may be.” 

“ Body-servant, Reuben,” said his monitress. 

“ Servant! Well, if he was a servant, I don’t know nothink! 
Why, there aint a gentleman in S’ Mary’s county as dresses as 
fine and puts on as many airs ! ” 

“ That is quite likely. Uncle Reuben ; but for all that, Frisbie 
is Lord Vincent’s servant,” said Ishmael. 

“Well, hows’ever that may be, there he was alongside o’ the 
driver. But what staggers of me is, that there wa’n’t no Lord 
Vincent nowhere to be seen ! He was ’mong the missin’. And 
that was the rummest go as ever was. A new bride a-comin’ 
home to her ’pa without no bridegroom. And so I jest axed 
Mr. Frisbie, Esquire, and he telled me how his lordship missed 
the trail. What trail! And what business had he to be offen 
the trail, when his wife was on it ? That’s what I want to know. 
And, anyways, it’s the rummest go as ever was. Did you hear 
anythink about it, Ishmael ? ” 

“I chanced to overhear Lady Vincent say to her father — • 
that she was alone. That was all. I did not even see her lady- 
ship.” ' 

“ Well, now, that’s another rum go. Didn’t wait to see her. 
And you sich friends? Owtch! Oh! Ah! What’s that for, 
Hannah? You’ve trod on my toe and ground it a’most to 
powder ! Ah ! ” 

“ If your foot is as soft as your head, no wonder every touch 
hurts it ! ” snapped Mrs. Gray. 

“Law, what a temper she have got, Ishmael!” said poor 
Reuben, carressing his afilicted foot. 

Hannah had effected the diversion she intended, and soon 
after gave the signal for rising from the table. And she took 
good care during the rest of the evening that the subject of 
Lord and Lady Vincent should not be brought upon the tapis. 

The next morning being Monday, Ishmael accompanied 
Reuben in his rounds over his own little farm and the great 
Tanglewood estate, to see the improvements. The “ durrum 
cow and calf and the “ shank-hye ” fowls received due notice. 
And the first ripe bunches of the “hamburg” grapes were 
plucked in the visitor’s honor. 


60 SELF-KAISED ) OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

In the afternoon they went down to the oyster banks and 
amused themselves with watching Sam rake the oysters and 
load the cart. 

They returned to a late tea. 

It was while they were sitting out on the vine-shaded porch, 
enjoying their usual evening chat under the star-lit sky, that 
they heard the sound of approaching wheels. 

And a few moments afterwards a carriage drew up at the 
gate. 

Eeuben walked up to see who was within it. And Ishmael 
heard the voice of Lord Vincent inquiring: 

^*Is this the best road to Tanglewood? ” 

“Well, yes, sir; I do s’pose it’s the best, if any can be called 
the best where none on ’em is good, but every one on ’em as 
bad as bad can be ! ” was the encouraging answer. 

“ Drive on ! ” said Lord Vincent. And the carriage rolled 
out of sight into the forest road. 

After all, then, the viscount had not absconded. He proba- 
bly had missed the train. But why had he missed it? That 
was still the question. 

On Tuesday morning Ishmael took leave of Hannah and 
Reuben, promising to stop and spend another day and night 
with them on his return to Washington; and mounted on a 
fine horse, borrowed from Reuben, with his knapsack behind 
him, he started for the Beacon. 

It was yet early in the forenoon when he arrived at that cool 
promontory where the refreshing sea breezes met him. 

As he rode up to the house, that you know fronted the water, 
he saw Bee, blooming and radiant with youth and beauty, out 
on the front lawn with her younger sisters and brothers. 

Their restless glances caught sight of him first; and they all 
exclaimed at once: 

“ Here’s Ishmael, Bee ! here’s Ishmael, Bee ! ” and ran off to 
meet him. 

Bee impulsively started to run too, but checked herself, and 
stood, blushing but eager, waiting until Ishmael dismounted 
and came to greet her. 

She met him with a warm, silent welcome, and then, looking 
at him suddenly, said: 

“You are so much better; you are quite well. I am so glad, 
Ishmael ! ” 

“ Yes, I am well and happy, dearest Bee — thanks to you and 


HOLIDAY. 


61 


to Heaven ! ” said Ishmael, warmly pressing her hands again to 
his lips, before turning to embrace the children who were jump- 
ing around him. 

Then they all went into the house, where Mr. and Mrs. Mid- 
dleton met him with an equally cordial welcome. 

“ And how did you leave the family at Tanglewood? Family, 
said I ? Ah ! there is no family there now ; no one left but the 
old judge. How is he? And when is Claudia and her lordling 
expected back ? ” inquired Mr. Middleton, when they were all 
seated near one of the sea-view windows. 

“ The judge is well. Lord and Lady Vincent are with him,^^ 
replied Ishmael. 

And then in answer to their exclamations of surprise he told 
all he knew of the unexpected arrival. 

A luncheon of fruit, cream, cake, and wine was served, and 
the welcome guest was pressed to partake of it. 

Ishmael tasted and enjoyed all except the wine — that, faith- 
ful to his vow, he avoided, and was rewarded by a sympathetic 
look from Bee. 

This was one of the bright days of Ishmael’s life. Nowhere 
did he feel so much at home or so happy as with these kind 
friends. They had an early seaside dinner — fish, crabs, oysters, 
and water-fowl, forming a large portion of the bill of fare. 
Luscious, freshly gathered fruits composed the dessert. After 
dinner, as the evening was clear and bright, the wind fresh and 
the waters calm, they went for a sail down to Silver Sands, and 
returned by starlight. 

Ishmael remained all the week at the Beacon. And it was a 
week of rare enjoyment to him. He passed nearly all the time 
with Bee and her inseparable companions, the children. He 
helped them with the lessons in the schoolroom in the morning ; 
he went nutting with them in the woods, or strolled with them 
on the beach; and he gave himself up to the task of amusing 
them during the hour after the lamp was lighted that they 
were permitted to sit up. 

All this was due partly to his desire to be with his betrothed, 
and partly to his genial love to children. 

About the middle of the week, as they , were all seated at 
breakfast one morning, missives came from Tanglewood to the 
Beacon — invitations to dine there the following Wednesday 
evening. These invitations included Mr. and Mrs. Middleton, 
Beatrice, and Ishmael. 


62 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

“You will go, of course, Worth?” said Mr. Middleton. 

“ I am due at Brudenell Hall on Tuesday evening, and I 
must keep my appointment,” said Ishmael. 

“ Well, I suppose that settles it, for I never knew you to break 
an appointment, under any sort of temptation,” said Mr. Mid- 
dleton. 

And Bee, who well understood why, even had Ishmael’s time 
been at his own disposal, he should not have gone to Tangle- 
wood, silently acquiesced. 

On this day Ishmael sought an interview with Mr. and Mrs. 
Middleton, and besought them, as his present income and fu- 
ture prospects equally justified him in taking a wife, to fix 
some day, not very distant, for his marriage with Bee. 

But the father and mother assured him, in the finnest though 
the most affectionate manner, that at least one year, if not two, 
must elapse before they could consent to part with tlieir 
daughter. 

Ishmael most earnestly deprecated the two years of proba- 
tion, and finally compromised for one year, during which he 
should be permitted to correspond freely with his betrothed, and 
visit her at will. 

With this Ishmael rested satisfied. 

The remainder of the week passed passed delightfully to him. 

Mrs. Middleton took the children off Bee’s hands for a few 
days, to leave her to some enjoyment of her lover’s visit. 

And every morning and afternoon Ishmael and Bee rode 
or walked together, through the old forest or along the pebbly 
beach. Sometimes they had a sail to some fine point on the 
shore. Their evenings were passed in the drawing room, with 
Mr j d Mrs. Middleton, and were employed in music, books, 
" n. V Tcrsation. 

n ■ - the pleasant days slipped by and brought the Sabbath, 
■' ' he f amilj’- went together to the old Shelton church. 

:vi V was the last day of his visit, and he passed it almost 

‘ ; n the society of Bee. In the evening Mr. and Mrs. 

I' ' - ft them alone in the drawing room, that they 
n. lHc ir last kind words to each other unembarrassed 

by I' pr-: ( ’ t of others. 

A 1 on /in day morning Ishmael mounted his horse and 
start f r B. d ;nell, 


ISHMAEL AT BKUDENELL. 


63 


CHAPTER X. 

ISHMAEL AT BRUDENELL. 

God loves no heart to others iced^ 

Nor erring flatteries which bedim 
Our glorious membership in Christ, 

Wherein all loving His, love Him. 

—M. F. Tupper. 

It was a long day’s ride from the Beacon to Brudenell Hall. 
The greater length of the road lay through the forest. 
It was, in fact, the very same route traversed, five years before, 
by Reuben Gray, when he brought Hannah and Ishmael from 
the Hill Hut to Woodside. 

Ishmael thought of that time, as he ambled on through the 
leafy wilderness. 

At noon he stopped at a rural inn to feed and rest his horse, 
and refresh himself, and an hour afterwards he mounted and 
resumed his journey. 

It was near sunset when he came in sight of the bay and the 
village to which it gave the name of Baymouth. How well he 
remembered the last time he had been at that village — ^when 
he had run that frantic race to catch the sleigh which was car- 
rying Claudia away from him, and had fallen in a swoon at the 
sight of the steamer that was bearing her off. 

How many changes had taken place since then! Claudia 
was a viscountess; he was a successful barrister; their love a 
troubled dream of the past. 

He rode through Baymouth, looking left and right at the 
old familiar shops and signs that had been the wonder and 
amusement of his childhood; and at many new shops and signs 
that the march of progress had brought down even to Bay- 
mouth. 

He paused a moment to gaze at Hamlin’s book store, that 
had been the paradise of his boyhood ; and he recalled that note- 
worthy day in August, when, while standing before Hamlin’s 
window, staring at the books, he had first been accosted by 
Hr. Middleton, afterwards assaulted by Alfred Burghe, and 
finally defended by Claudia Merlin. Claudia was noble then — 
but, ah, how ignoble now ! 

He passed on, unrecognized by anyone, first because the 


64 SELF-RAISEB ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

years between the ages of seventeen, when he was last there, 
and twenty-one, when he was now there, really had wrought 
serious changes in his personal appearance, and secondly be- 
cause no one was just then expecting to see Ishmael Worth at 
all, and least of all in the person of the tall, distinguished-look- 
ing, and well-mounted stranger, who came riding through their 
town and taking the road to Brudenell. 

Every foot of that road was rich in memories to Ishmael. 
Over it he had ridden, in Mr. Middleton’s carriage, on that 
fateful day of his first meeting with Claudia. 

Over it he had traveled, weary and footsore, through the 
snow, to sell his precious book to buy tea for Hannah. 

And over it he had again flashed in Mr. Middleton’s sleigh, 
happy in the possession of his recovered treasure. 

Twilight was deepening into dark when he reached that point 
in the road where the little footpath diverged from it and led 
up to the Hill Hut. 

No! he could not pass this by. The path was wide enough 
to admit the passage of a horse. He turned up it, and rode on 
until he came in sight of the hut. 

It was but little changed. It is astonishing how long these 
little lonely dilapidated houses hold on if let alone. 

He alighted, tied his horse to a tree, and walked up behind 
the house, where, under the old elm, he saw the low headstone 
gleaming dimly in the starlight. 

He knelt and bowed his head over it for a little while. Then 
he arose and stood with folded arms, gazing thoughtfully down 
upon it. Finally he murmured to himself: ‘^Not here, but 
risen ; ” and turned and left the spot. 

He went to the tree where he had tied his horse, remounted, 
and rode on his way. 

Again he passed down the narrow path leading back to the 
broad turnpike road that wound around the brow of the hiUs to 
Brudenell Hall. 

Here also every yard of the road was redolent of past asso- 
ciations. 

How often, while self-apprenticed to the Professor of Odd 
Jobs, he had passed up and down this road, carrying a basket 
of tools behind his master. 

At length he came to the cross-roads, and to the turnstile, 
where he had once seen and been accosted by the beautiful 
Countess of Hurstmonceux. 


ISHMAEL AT BEUDENELL. 65 

He rode past this spot, and taking the lower arm of the road 
entered upon the Brudenell grounds. 

A very short ride brought him to the semi-circular avenue 
leading to the house. 

It was now quite dark ; but the front of the house was lighted 
up, holding forth, as it were, its hands in welcome. 

As he rode up and dismounted a servant took his horse. 

And as he walked up the front steps Mr. Brudenell came 
out of the front door and, holding out his hand, said cordially : 

“ You are welcome, my dear Ishmael ! I received your letter 
this morning, and have been looking for you all afternoon ! ” 

“ And I am very glad to get here at last, sir,” said Ishmael, 
returning the fervent pressure of his father’s hands. 

“Come up, my boy! Felix, go before us with the light to 
the room prepared for Mr. Worth,” he said to a mulatto boy 
who was waiting in the hall. 

Felix immediately led the way upstairs to a large back room, 
whose windows overlooked the star-lit, dew-spangled garden, 
and which Ishmael at once recognized as the happy schoolroom 
of his boyhood, now transformed into his bedroom. He wel- 
comed the old familiar walls with all his heart; he was glad to 
be in them. 

Mr. Brudenell himself took care that Ishmael had everything 
he was likely to want, and then he left him. 

When Ishmael had changed his dress he went below to the 
drawing room, where he found his father waiting. The late 
dinner was immediately served. 

Old Jovial, who on account of his age and infirmity had been 
left to vegetate on the estate, waited on the table. 

He stole wistful glances at the strange young man who was 
his master’s guest, and who somehow or other reminded him 
of somebody whom he felt he ought to remember, but knew he 
could not. 

At length Ishmael, attracted by his covert regards, looked 
at him in return, and in spite of his bowed and shrunken form 
and thinned and whitened hair, recognized the old friend of his 
boyhood, and exclaimed, as he offered his hand : 

“ Why, Jovial, it is never you ! ” 

“ Mr. Ishmael, sir, it’s never you ! ” returned the old man 
with a grin of Joyful recognition. 

They shook hands then and there. 

And old Jovial showed his increased regard for the guest by 


6G selF'KAISEd; oe, from the depths. 

continually proffering bread, vegetables, meat, poultry, pepper, 
salt, in short, everything in succession over and over again, 
thereby effectually preventing Ishmael from eating his dinner, 
by compelling his constant attention to these offerings; until 
at length Mr. Brudenell interfered and brought him to reason. 

The next morning Mr. Brudenell proposed to Ishmael to go 
out for a day’s shooting. And accordingly they took their 
fowling-pieces, called the dogs and started for the wooded val- 
ley where game most abounded. 

They spent the day pleasantly, bagged many birds and re- 
turned home to a late dinner; and the evening closed as before. 

“ What would you like to do with yourself this morning, 
Ishmael ? ” inquired Mr. Brudenell, as they were seated at 
breakfast on Thursday. 

“ I wish to go in search of a valued old friend of mine, 
known in this neighborhood as the Professor of Odd J obs,” was 
the reply. 

Oh, Morris. Yes. You will find him, I fancy, in the old 
place, just on the edge of the estate,” replied Mr. Brudenell. 

And when they arose from the table the latter went out and 
mounted his horse to ride to the post office, for Herman Bru- 
denell’s establishment was now reduced to so small a number of 
servants that he was compelled to be his own postman. To be 
plain with you, there were but two servants — old Jovial, who 
was gardener, coachman, and waiter; and old Dinah, his wife, 
who was cook, laundress, and chambermaid. 

Felix, the lad mentioned in the beginning of this chapter, 
was scarcely to be called one, upon account of the mental im- 
becility that confined his usefulness to such simple duties as 
running little errands from room to room about the house. 

So Mr. Brudenell rode off to the post office, and Ishmael 
walked off to the cottage occupied by Jim Morris. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE PROFESSOR OF ODD JOBS. 

An ancient man, hoary gray with eld. 

— Dante. 

The little house was situated right at the foot of the hill 
south of Brudenell Hall. 

Ishmael approached it from behind and walked around to the 


THE PROFESSOR OF ODD JOBS. 


67 


front. He opened the little wooden gate of the front yard and 
saw seated in the front door, enjoying that early autumn morn- 
ing, a stalwart old man, whose well-marked features and high 
forehead were set in a rim of hair and beard as white as snow. 
A most respectable and venerable-looking form, indeed, though 
the raiment that clothed it was old and patched. But Ishmael 
had to look again before he could recognize in this reverend 
personage the Professor of Odd Jobs. 

A curiosity to know whether the professor would recognizti 
him induced Ishmael to approach him as a stranger. As he 
came into the yard, however, Morris arose slowly, and, lifting 
his old felt hat, bowed courteously to the supposed stranger. 

“Your name is Morris, I believe,” said Ishmael, by way of 
opening a conversation. 

But at the first word the professor started and gazed at his 
visitor, and exclaiming: “Young Ishmael! Oh, my dear boy, 
how glad I am to see you once more before I die ! ” burst into 
tears. 

Ishmael went straight into his embrace, and the old odd-job 
man pressed the young gentleman to his honest, affectionate 
heart. 

“ You knew me at once, professor,” said Ishmael affection- 
ately. 

“ Knew you, my boy I ” burst out the old man, with enthu- 
siasm. “Why, I knew you as soon as ever you looked at me 
and spoke to me. I knew you by your steady, smiling eyes and 
by your rich, sweet voice, young Ishmael. Ko one has a look 
and a tone like yours.” 

“ You think so because you like me, professor.” 

• “ And how you have grown 1 And they tell me that you have 

risen to be a great lawyer ? I knew it was in you to do it I ” 
said the professor, holding the young man off and gazing at 
him with all a father’s pride. 

“By the blessing of Heaven, I have been successful, dear 
old friend,” said Ishmael affectionately; “but how has it been 
with you, all these years ? ” he asked. 

“ How has it been with me ? Ah, young Ishmael — I should 
say ‘Mr. Worth.’” 

“Young Ishmael, professor.” 

“Ho, no; ‘Mr. Worth.’ I shall love you none the less by 
honoring you more. And with me you are henceforth ‘ Mr. 
Worth.’ ” 


68 SELF-EAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

“ As you please, professor. But I hope it has been well with 
you all these years ? ” 

Come in, Mr. Worth, and sit down and I will tell you.” 

The professor led the way into the humble dwelling. It was 
as neat as ever, with its sanded floor, flag-bottom chairs, and 
pine tables, — all of the professor’s manufacture, — and its 
bright tinware and clean crockery ranged in order on its well- 
scimbbed shelves. 

But its look of solitude struck a chill upon Ishmael’s spirits. 

“ Where are they all, professor?” he inquired. 

“ Gone, Mr. Worth,” answered Morris solemnly, as he placed 
a chair for his guest. 

“ Gone ! not dead ! ” exclaimed Ishmael, dropping into the 
offered seat. 

“ Not all dead, but all gone,” answered the professor sadly, 
letting himself sink into a seat near Ishmael. 

^‘Your wife?” inquired the young man. 

“ There — and there,” answered the professor, pointing flrst 
down and then up; ‘^her body is in the earth; her soul in 
heaven, I hope.” 

“ And your daughters, professor ? ” inquired Ishmael, in a 
voice of sympathy. 

“ Both married, Mr. Worth. Ann Maria married Lewis 
Digges, old Commodore Burghe’s boy that he set free before 
he died, and they have moved up to Washington to better them- 
selves, and they’re doing right well, as I hear. He drives a 
hack and she clear starches. They have three children, two 
girls and a boy. I have never seen one of them yet.” 

“ And your other daughter? ” 

Mary Ellen ? She married Henry Parsons, a free man, by 
trade a blacksmith, and they live in St. Inigoes. They have 
one child, a boy. I haven’t seen them either since they have 
been married.” 

“ And you are quite alone ? ” said Ishmael, in a tender voice. 

Quite alone, young Ishmael,” answered the professor, who 
forgot on this occasion to call his sometime pupil Mr. Worth. 

“ And how is business, professor ? ” 

“ Business has fallen off considerably ; indeed I may say it 
has fallen off altogether.” 

“ I am very sorry to hear it. How is that, professor ? ” 

‘‘Why, you see, Mr. Worth, its falling off is the natural 
result of time and progress, of which I cannot complain, and at 


THE PROFESSOR OF ODD JOBS. 


69 


which I ought to rejoice. It was all very well for the neigh- 
borhood to patronize a Jack of all trades like me when there 
was nothing better to be had; but now you see there are lots of 
regular mechanics been gradually coming down and settling 
here — carpenters and stone-masons and painters and glaziers 
and plumbers and tinners and saddlers and shoemakers, and 
what not. Law, why you might have seen their signs as you 
rode through Baymouth.” 

‘a did.” 

“Well, you see these mechanics, they have journeymen and 
apprentices with their trades at their fingers’ ends, and they 
can do their work not only easier and quicker and better than 
I can, but even cheaper. So I cannot complain that they have 
taken the custom of the neighborhood from me.” 

“Professor, I really do admire the justice and forbearance 
of your nature.” 

“ Well, young Ishmael, there was another thing. I was get- 
ting too old to tramp miles and miles through the country with 
a heavy pack on my back, as I used to do.” 

“ Well, then, I hope you have saved a little money, at least, 
old friend, to make you comfortable in your old age,” said Ish- 
mael feelingly. 

The poor, old odd- job man looked up with a humorous 
twinkle in his eye, as he replied: 

“ Why, law, young Ishmael, the idea of my saving money ! 
When had I ever a chance to do it in the best o’ days? Why, 
Ishmael, they say how ministers of the gospel and teachers of 
youth are the worst paid men in the community; but I think, 
judging by my own case, that professors are quite as poorly 
remunerated. It used to take everything I could rake and 
scrape to keep my family together; and so, young Ishmael, I 
haven’t saved a dollar.” 

“ Is that so ? ” asked Ishmael, in a voice of pain. 

“ True as gospel, young Ishmael — Mr. Worth.” 

“ How then do you manage to live, Morris ? I ask this from 
the kindest of feelings.” 

“ Don’t I know it, young — ^Mr. Worth. Well, sir, I do an odd 
job once in a while yet, for the colored people, and that keeps 
me from starving,” said the professor, with a smile. 

Ishmael fell into a deep thought for a while, and then lifting 
his head, said: 

“Well, professor, you have been in your day and generation 


70 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

as useful a man to your fellow-creatures as any other in this 
world. You have contributed as much to the comfort and well- 
being of the community in which you live as any other member 
of it! And you should not and you shall not be left in your 
old age, either to suffer from want or to live on charity ” 

“ I may suffer for want, Mr. Worth, but I never will consent 
to live on charity! ” said the odd-job man with dignity. 

“ That I am sure you never will, professor ; though mind ! I 
do not believe it to be any degradation to live by charity when 
one cannot live in any other way. For if all men are brethren 
should not the able brother help the disabled brother, and that 
without humbling him ? ” 

“Yes; but I am not disabled, young — Mr. Worth. I am only 
disused.” 

“ That is very true. And therefore I spoke as I did when I 
said just now that you should not suffer from want nor live by 
charity. Listen to me, professor. I have a proposition to make 
to you. Your daughters are all married and your work is done; 
you are alone and idle here. But you are not a mere animal to 
be tied down to one spot of earth by local attachment. You 
are a very intelligent man with a progressive mind. You will 
never stop improving, professor. You have improved very 
much in the last few years. I notice it in your conversa- 
tion ” 

“I am glad you think so, young — Mr. Worth! but I’m getting 
aged.” ' 

“What of that? You are ‘traveling towards the light,’ and 
after improving all your life here you will go on progressing 
through all eternity.” 

“Well, sir, that thought ought to be a great comfort to an 
old man.” 

“Yes. Mow what I want to propose to you is this — think 
you love me, professor ? ” 

“Love you, young — Mr. Worth! Why the Lord in heaven 
bless your dear heart, I love you better than I do anything on 
the face of the earth, and that’s a fact,” said the professor, with 
his face all in a glow of feeling. 

And all who knew him might have known that he spoke truth ; 
for though he was not in the least degree deficient in affection 
for his daughters, yet his love of Ishmael amounted almost 
to idolatry. 

“Dear old friend, I will prove to you some day how high a 


the professoe of obb jobs. 


71 


value T set upon your love. I think, professor, that loving me, 
as you do, you could live happily with me ? ” 

“What did you say, young — Mr. Worth? I did not quite 
understand.” 

“ I will be plain, professor. You have lived out your present 
life here; it is gone. Now, instead of vegetating on here any 
longer, come into another sphere, a more enlarged and active 
sphere, where your thoughts as well as your hands will find em- 
ployment and your mind as well as your body have food.” 

“How is that to be done, young — Mr. Worth?” 

“ Come with me to Washington. I have a suite of three very 
pleasant rooms in the house where I board. Now suppose you 
come and live with me and take care of my rooms? Your ser- 
vices would be worth a good, liberal salary, from which you 
would be enabled to live very comfortably and save money.” 

“What, young Ishmael! Me! I go to Washington and live 
with you all the time, day and night, under one roof! and live 
where I can get books and newsp^apers and hear lectures and 
debates and see pictures and models, and, in short, come at 
everything I have been longing to reach all my life ? ” 

“Yes, professor, that is what I propose to you.” 

“ There ! I used to say that you’d live to be a blessing to 
my declining years, young — Mr. Worth (I declare I’ll not for- 
get myself again), Mr. Worth! there! Do you really mean 
it, sir ? ” 

“Really and truly.” 

“ There, then, I am not going to be a hypocrite and pretend 
to higgle-haggle about it. I’ll go, sir; and be proud to do it; 
it will be taking a new lease of life for me to go. Do you know, 
I never was in a large city in all my life, though I have always 
longed to go? Well, sir. I’ll go with you. And I will serve you 
faithfully, sir; for mine will be a service for love more than 
for money. And I will never forget the proprieties so far as to 
call you anything else but ‘ Mr. Worth,’ or ‘ sir,’ in the presence 
of others, sir, though my heart does betray me into calling 
you young Ishmael sometimes here.” 

“ I shall leave here on Saturday morning. Can you be ready 
to go with me as soon as that ? ” 

“ Of course I can, Mr. Worth. There’s nothing for me to do 
in the way of preparation but to pack my knapsack and lock 
my door,” answered this “Rough and Ready.” 

“ Very well, then, professor, I like your promptitude. Meet 


72 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

me at Brudenell Hall on Saturday morning at leven o^clock, 
and in the meantime I will find a conveyance for you.'^ 

“ All right ; thank you, sir ; I will be ready.” 

And Ishmael shook hands with the professor and departed, 
leaving him hopeful and happy. 

At the dinner-table that day, being questioned by his father, 
Ishmael told him of the retainer he had engaged. 

Ah, my dear boy, it is just like you to burden yourself 
with the presence and support of that poor old man, and per- 
suade him — and yourself, too, perhaps — that you are securing 
the services of an invaluable assistant. And all with no other 
motive than his welfare,” said Mr. Brudenell. 

“ Indeed, sir, I think it will add to my happiness to have 
Morris with me. I like and esteem the old man, and I believe 
that he really will be of much use to me,” replied the son. 

“Well, I hope so, Ishmael; I hope so.” 

There was through all his talk a preoccupied air about Mr. 
Brudenell that troubled his son, who at last said: 

“ I hope, sir, that you have received no unpleasant news by 
this mail ? ” 

“ Oh, no ; no, Ishmael ! but I have had on my mind for sev- 
eral days something of which I wish to speak to you ” 

“Yes, sir?” 

“ Ishmael, since I have been down here I have followed your 
counsel. I have gone about among my tenants and dependents, 
and — without making inquiries — I have led them to speak of 
the long period of my absence from my little kingdom, and of 
the manner in which Lady Hurstmonceux administered its 
affairs. And, Ishmael, I have heard but one account of her. 
With one voice the community here accord her the highest 
praise.” 

“ I told you so, sir.” 

“As a wife, though an abandoned one, as mistress of the 
house, and as lady of the manor, she seems to have performed 
all her duties in the most unexceptionable manner.” 

“Everyone knows that, sir.” 

“ But still remains the charge not yet refuted.” 

“Because you have given her no chance to refute it, sir. 
Be just ! Put her on her defense, and my word for it, she will 
exonerate herself,” said Ishmael earnestly. 

Mr. Brudenell shook his head. 

“ There are some things, Ishmael, that on the very face of 


THE JOURNEY. 73 

them admit of no defense,” said Mr. Brudenell, with an emphasis 
that put an end to the conversation. 

Punctually at seven o’clock Saturday the professor, accou- 
tered for a journey, with knapsack on his back, presented him- 
self at the servant’s door at Brudenell Hall. 

His arrival being announced, Ishmael came out to meet him. 
<1 “Well, here I am, Mr. Worth; though how I am to travel I 
don’t know. I have walked, by faith, so far ! ” he said. 

“ All right, professor. Mr. Brudenell will lend me an extra 
horse.” 

And father and son took leave of each other with earnest 
wishes for their mutual good. 

CHAPTEK XII. 

THE JOURNEY. 

Ever charming, ever new. 

When will the landscape tire the view ? 

The fountains fall, the rivers flow, 

The woody valleys, warm and low. 

The windy summit, wild and high. 

Roughly rushing on the sky! 

The pleasant seat, the chapel tower. 

The naked rock, the shady bower. 

The town and village, dome and farm, 

Each gave each a double charm. 

As pearls upon a woman’s arm. 

— Dyer. 

Ishmael and his aged retainer rode on, down the elm-shaded 
avenue and out upon the turnpike road. There seemed to be 
a special fitness in the relations between these two. Ishmael, 
you are aware, was a very handsome, stately, and gracious 
young man. And the professor was the tallest, gravest, and 
most respectable of servants. Ah, their relative positions were 
changed since twelve years before, when they used to travel 
that same road on foot, as “ boss ” and “ boy.” 

Many men in Ishmael’s position would have shrunk from all 
that would have reminded them of the poverty from which 
they had sprung; and would have avoided as much as possible 
all persons who were familiar with their early struggles. 

But Ishmael did not so. While pressing forward to the duties 
and . distinctions of the future, with burning aspiration and 
untiring energy, he held the places and persons of the past in 
most affectionate remembrance. 


74 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

To a vain or haughty man in Ishmael’s situation there could 
scarcely have occurred a more humiliating circumstance than 
the constant presence of the poor, old odd- jobber, whose “ boy ” 
he had once been. 

But Ishmael was neither the one nor the other; he was in- 
tellectual and affectionate. His breadth of mind took in his 
past memories, his present position, and his future prospects, 
and saw them all in perfect harmony. And his depth of heart 
found room for the humblest friends of his wretched infancy, 
as well as for the higher loves of his manhood’s prime. 

Ishmael was at ease with the old odd-job man, and he would 
have been at ease with his imperial majesty, had circumstances 
brought him into the immediate circle of the Czar; because 
from the depths of his soul he was intensely conscious of the 
innate majesty of man. 

Ishmael had no more need of a servant than a coach has of 
a fifth wheel. He took the professor into his service for no other 
purpose than to take care of the poor old man and make him 
happy, never foreseeing how really useful and important this 
gray-haired retainer would eventually become to him. He was 
planning only the professor’s happiness, not his own convenience. 
But he found both. 

As they rode along that pleasant September morning he was 
pleasing himself with thinking how that intelligent old man, 
starved all his life for mental food, would delight himself amid 
the intellectual wealth of his new life. 

They were approaching the turn-stile at the cross-roads, 
memorable for the weary watchings of Lady Hurstmonceux. 

As they reached the spot and took the road leading to Bay- 
mouth Ishmael looked back to the professor, who, as he felt in 
duty bound to do, rode in the rear of his master, and, as was 
natural, looked a little serious. 

Do you remember, professor, how often you and I have 
traveled afoot up and down this road in the exercise of our use- 
ful calling of odd-jobbing? Your great shoulders bowed under 
an enormous load of pots, pans, kettles, umbrellas, and every- 
thing that required your surgical skill; and my little back 
bent beneath the basket of tools ? ” inquired Ishmael, by way of 
diverting him. • 

^‘Ah, do I not, sir! But why recall those days? You have 
left them far behind, sir,” said the professor, in grave con- 
sideration of his master’s dignity. 


THE JOURMY. 


75 

Because 1 like to recall them, professor. It quickens my 
gratitude to the Lord for all his marvelous mercies, and it 
deepens my love for my friends for their goodness to me then,” 
jaid Ishmael fervently. 

“ The Lord knows I don’t know who was good to you then 1 
Of course, now, sir, there are multitudes of people who would 
be proud to be numbered among your friends. But then, of all 
the abandoned children that ever I saw, you were about the 
most friendless,” said the professor, with much feeling. 

You, for one, were good to me, professor; and I do not for- 
get it.” 

Ah, the Lord knows it was but little I could do.” 

“ What you did do was vital to me, professor. My life was 
but a little flame, in danger of dying out. You fed it with 
little chips, and kept it alive.” 

“ And it burns great hickory logs now, and warms the world,” 
said the professor, looking proudly and fondly upon the fine 
young man before him. 

“It shall at least warm and shelter your age, professor. 
And whatever of prosperity the Lord accords me, you shall 
share.” 

As he said these words he turned an affectionate look on 
his retainer, and saw the tears rolling down the old man’s 
cheeks. 

“ It was but a few, poor crumbs I cast upon the waters, that 
all this bread should come back to me after many days,” he 
muttered in a broken voice. 

“We were really very happy, professor, when we used to 
trudge the road together, plying our profession; but we are go- 
ing to be much happier now, because our lives will be enlarged.” 

The professor smiled assent and they rode on. 

They passed through Baymouth, where the professor directed 
his master’s attention to the new signs of the mechanics who 
had taken his custom from him. 

“ But it is a true saying, sir, that there never was one door 
closed but what there was another opened. Many doors were 
closed against me at once; but just see what a broad, beautiful 
door you have opened to me, letting me into a glorious new 
life!” 

“ Life is what we make of it, professor. To you, who will ap- 
preciate and enjoy every good thing in it, no doubt your new 
life will be very happy,” replied Ishmael. 


76 self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

And so conversing they passed through the town and en- 
tered the deep forest that lay along the shores of the river be- 
tween Baymouth and Shelton. 

They rode all the morning through the pleasant woods and 
stopped an hour at noon to rest and refresh themselves and 
their horses; and then resumed their journey and rode all the 
afternoon and arrived at Woodside just as the sun was setting. 

As before, Keuben, Hannah, Sam, Sally, the children, and 
the dog, all rushed out to welcome Ishmael. 

Much astonished was Hannah to see her old friend, the pro- 
fessor, and much delighted to hear that he was going up to 
Washington to fill the place of major-domo to Ishmael. For 
Hannah shared the old woman^s superstition, that the young 
man is never able to take care of himself; and notwithstand- 
ing all that had come and gone — notwithstanding that Ishmael 
had taken care of himself and her too, from the time he 
was eight years old, for years more, still she thought that he 
would be all the safer for having “ an old head to look after 
him.” 

There was plenty of news to tell, too. 

As soon as the bounteous supper that Reuben and Hannah 
always provided for favored guests was over, and they were all 
gathered around the bright little wood fire that the capricious 
autumn weather rendered desirable, the budget was opened. 

Lord and Lady Vincent were to have an evening reception 
at Tanglewood. 

And on the first of October they were to sail for Europe. 

Lady Vincent was going to take three of the servants with 
her — old Aunt Katie, Jim, and Sally. 

Jim was to go as lady’s footman; Sally as lady’s maid; and 
old Aunt Katie in no particular capacity, but because she re- 
fused to be separated from the two beings she loved the most of 
all in the world. 

She had nursed Miss Claudia, and she was bound to nurse 
Miss Claudia’s children, she said. 

Lady Vincent had decided to take her, and was rather glad 
to do it. 

Lord Vincent, it was supposed, did not like the arrangement, 
and stigmatized the black servants as gorillas,” but Lady Vin- 
cent, it was confidently asserted, never deigned to consult his 
lordship, or pay the slightest attention to his prejudices. An d 
so matters stood for the present. 


THE JOURNEY. 


77 

All this was communicated to Ishmael by Reuben and Han- 
nah. And in the midst of their talk, in walked one of the sub- 
jects of their conversation — Aunt Katie. 

She was immediately welcomed and provided with a seat in 
the chimney-corner. She was inflated with the subject of her 
expected voyage and glowing with the importance of her an- 
ticipated office. She expatiated on the preparations in progress. 

But don’t you feel sorry to leave your native home. Aunt 
Katie?” inquired Hannah. 

Who, me ? Ko, ’deed ! I takes my native home along 
with me when I takes Miss Claudia and Jim and Sally! For 
what says the catechism ? — ^ ’tis home where’er de heart is ! ^ 
And my heart is ’long o’ de chillun. ’Sides which I don’t want 
to be alius stuck down in one place like an old tree as can’t 
he moved without killing of it. I’m a living soul, I am, and 
I wants to go and see somethin’ of this here world afore I goes 
hence and bees no more,” said Katie briskly. 

Evidently Katie was a progressive spirit, and would not have 
hesitated to emigrate to Liberia or any other new colony where 
she could better herself or her children, and begin life afresh 
at fifty. 

At last Katie got up to go, and bade them all a patronizing 
farewell. 

Sally, and Jim, who as usual was spending his evening with 
her, arose to accompany Katie. 

And Ishmael took his hat and walked out after them. 

Yery much embarrassed they were at this unusual honor, 
which they could in no wise understand, until at length when 
they had gone some little way into the woods Ishmael said : 

“ I have something to say to you three.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Katie, speaking for the rest. 

“ Katie, you are acquainted with that psychological mystery 
called presentiment, for I have heard you speak of it,” said 
Ishmael, smiling half in doubt, half in derision of his present 
feelings. 

“ Ye-es, sir,” answered Katie hesitatingly, “ I believe in per- 
sentiments; though what you mean by sigh-what’s-its-name, I 
don’t know.” 

“Kever mind, Katie, you believe in presentiments?” 

“ Indeed do I ! and got reason to, too ! Why, law ! the month 
before Mrs. Merlin, as was Miss Claudia’s mother, died, I 
sperienced the most ’stonishing 


78 SELF'EAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

Yes, I know. You told me all about that before, Katie.” 

Why, so I did, to be sure, sir, when you were lying wounded 
at the house ! ” 

“ Yes. Well, Katie, some such feeling as that of which you 
speak, vague, but very strong, impels me to say what I am about 
to say to you all.” 

“ Yes, sir. Listen, chillun I ” said Katie, in a voice of such 
awful solemnity that Ishmael again smiled at what he was in- 
clined to characterize as the absurdity of believing in presenti- 
ments. 

‘^You three are going to Europe in attendance upon Lady 
Vincent.” 

“ Yes, sir. Listen, chillun ! ” again said Katie, keeping her 
eyes fixed upon Ishmael and nudging her companions right 
and left with her elbows. 

You will be all of her friends, all of her native country, all 
of her past life that she will take with her.” 

“ Yes, sir. Listen, chillun ! ” and another elbow dig, right 
and left. 

She is going among strangers, foreigners, possibly rivals and 
enemies.” 

Yes, sir. Listen, chillun — now it’s a-comin’ ! ” 

She may need all your devotion. Be vigilant, therefore. 
Watch over her, care for her, think for her, pray for her; let 
her honor and happiness be the one charge and object of your 
lives.” 

‘‘Yes, sir. Listen, chillun! you hears, don’t you?” 

A sharp reminder right and left brou^t out the responses 
“ yes ” and “ yes ” from Jim and Sally. 

“ And when you are far away you will remember all this 
that I have said to you; for, as I told you before, I feel, deep 
in my spirit, that your lady will need your utmost devotion,” 
said Ishmael earnestly. 

“You may count on me, for one, Mr. Ishmael, sir; not only 
to devote myself to my lady’s sarvice, but to keep the ole 
’oman and Sally in mind to go and do likewise,” said Jim, with 
an air of earnest good faith that could not be doubted. 

“ That is right. I will take leave of you now. Good-by ! 
God bless you ! ” 

And Ishmael shook hands with them all around, and left them 
and walked back to the cottage. 

The next day, being the Sabbath, he , , ent with Hannah and 


THE JOUEISTEY. 


79 

Reuben and the professor to church. He had almost shrunk 
from this duty, in his dread of meeting Claudia there; but 
she was not present. Judge Merlin’s pew was empty when they 
entered, and remained empty during the whole of the morning 
service. 

When the benediction had been pronounced, and the con- 
gregation were going out, Ishmael was about to leave his pew 
when he saw that the minister had come down from the pulpit 
and was advancing straight towards him to speak to him. He 
therefore stopped and waited for Mr. Wynne’s approach. 

There was a shaking of hands and mutual inquiries as to 
each other’s health, and then Mr. Wynne invited Ishmael to 
accompany him home and dine with him. 

Ishmael thanked him and declined the invitation, saying 
that he was with friends. 

Mr. Wynne then smilingly shook hands with Hannah and 
Reuben and the professor, claiming them all as old friends and 
parishioners, and extending the invitation to them. 

But Hannah pleaded the children left at home, and, with 
many thanks, declined the honor. 

And the friends shook hands and separated. 

Very early on Monday morning Ishmael and his gray-haired 
retainer prepared for their departure for Washington. 

Ishmael left two commissions for Reuben. The first was to 
make his apologies and adieus to J udge Merlin. And the second 
was to send back the horse, borrowed for the use of the pro- 
fessor, to Mr. Brudenell at Brudenell Hall. Both of which 
Reuben promised to execute. 

After an early breakfast Ishmael and his venerable dependent 
took leave of Hannah, the children and the dog, and seated 
themselves in the light wagon that had been geared up for 
their accommodation, and were driven by Reuben to Shelton, 
where they arrived in time to catch the “ Errand Boy ” on its 
up trip. Reuben took leave of them only half a minute before 
the boat started. 

They had a pleasant run up the river, and reached the Wash- 
ington wharf early on Wednesday morning, where Ishmael 
took a carriage to convey himself, servant, and his luggage to 
his lodgings. 

As they drove through the streets the professor, seated on the 
front seat, bobbed about from right to left, looking out at the 
windows and gazing at the houses, the shops, and the crowds 


80 selF'RAised; or, from the depths. 

of people. Nothing could exceed the surprise and delight of 
the intellectual but childlike old man, who now for the first 
time in his life looked upon a large city. His enthusiasm at 
the sight of the Capitol was delicious. 

“ You shall go all through it some day, as soon as we get set- 
tled,” said Ishmael. 

There is only one thing that I am doubtful about,” said 
the professor. 

And what is that ? ” 

“ That I have not years enough left to live to see all the 
wonders of the world.” 

“None of us — not the youngest of us have, professor. But 
you will live to see a great many. And by the time that you 
have seen everything that is to be found in Washington, I shall 
be ready to go to Europe ; for I expect to see Europe some time 
or other, professor, and you shall see it with me.” 

“Oh!” ejaculated the odd- job man, who seemed to think 
that the millennium was not far off. 

And at that moment the carriage drew up before Ishmael’s 
lodgings. And the driver and the professor carried the lug- 
gage into the front hall. And when the carriage was paid and 
dismissed Ishmael conducted the professor to the inner office, 
where the two clerks that were in charge of it arose to wel- 
come their principal. 

When he had shaken hands with them, he led his retainer 
into the bedroom, and showed him a small vacant chamber ad- 
joining that, and told him that the latter should be his — the 
professor’s own sanctuary. Then he showed the old man the 
pleasant garden, all blooming now with late roses, chrysanthe- 
mums, dahlias, and other gorgeous autumn flowers, and told him 
that there he might walk or sit, and smoke his pipe in pleasant 
weather. And finally he brought the professor back to the 
front office, where he found his hostesses, Miss Jenny and Miss 
Nelly Downey, waiting to welcome him. Nice, delicate, re- 
fined-looking old maiden ladies they were — tall, thin, and fair 
complexioned, with fine, gray hair, and cobweb lace caps and 
pale gray dresses, and having pleasant smiles and soft voices. 

After they had shaken hands with their lodger they turned 
looks of inquiry upon the tall, gray-haired old man that stood 
behind him. 

“ This is a very old friend of mine ; I have engaged him to 
take care of my rooms; his name is Morris, but upon account 


teE JOUENEY. 


81 

of his skill in many arts he has received from the public the 
title of professor,” said Ishmael, turning an affectionate look 
upon the old odd-job man. 

“How do you do, Professor Morris? We are very glad to 
see you, I am sure; and we hope you will find yourself com- 
fortable, and also that you will be a comfort to Mr. Worth, 
who is a very estimable young gentleman indeed,” said Miss 
Jenny, speaking for herself and sister. 

“ I cannot fail to be both comfortable and happy under this 
honored roof, my ladies ! ” said the professor, in a most reveren- 
tial tone, laying his hand upon his heart and making a pro- 
found bow that would have done credit to the most accom- 
plished courtier of the grave and stately old school. 

“A nice, gentlemanly old person,” said Miss Jenny, nodding 
her head to her sister. And Miss Helly said “ Yes,” and nodded 
her head also. 

“ If you can fit up the little chamber adjoining my bedroom 
for the professor, I will arrange with you for his board,” said 
Ishmael, aside to Miss Jenny. 

“ Oh, certainly ; it shall be done immediately,” replied the old 
lady. And she left the room, followed by her sister, to give 
orders to that effect. 

And before night the professor was comfortably installed in 
his neatly furnished and well-warmed little room, and Ish- 
maePs apartments were restored to order, and he himself in 
full career going over the office business of the last two weeks 
with his clerks. 

He found a plenty of work cut out for him to do, and he re- - 
solved to be very busy to make up for his idleness during his 
holiday. 

Ishmael did not really wish to tax his old servant with any 
labor at all. He wished his office to be as much of a sinecure 
as possible. And he continually urged the professor to go 
abroad and see the city sights, or to walk in the garden and 
enjoy his pipe, or rest himself in his own room, or visit his 
daughter, the hackman’s wife. 

The professor obediently did all this for a time; but as the 
days passed Ishmael saw that the old man’s greatest happiness 
consisted in staying with and serving his master; and so he 
at length permitted the professor to relieve the chamber-maid 
of her duties in his rooms, and take quiet possession and com- 
plete charge of them. 


83 


self-raised; or, from the depths. 

And never were rooms kept in more perfect order. And, best 
of all, love taught the professor the mystic art of dusting with- 
out deranging papers and dementing their owner. 

Ishmael’s present position was certainly a Very pleasant one. 
He not only found a real home in his boarding-house, and a 
faithful friend in his servant, but a pair of aunties in his land- 
ladies. Every good heart brought in contact with Ishmael 
Worth was sure to love him. And these old ladies were no 
exception to the rule. They had no relatives to bestow their 
affections upon, and so, seeing every day more of their young 
lodger’s worth, they grew to love him with maternal ardor. 
It is not too much to say that they doted on him. And in pri- 
vate they nodded their heads at each other and talked of its 
being time to make their wills, and spoke of young Mr. Worth 
as their heir and executor. 

Ishmael for his part treated the old ladies with all the 
reverential tenderness that their age and womanhood had a 
right to expect from his youth and manhood. He never dreamed 
that the “ sweet, small courtesies,” which it was his happiness 
to bestow alike on rich and poor, had won for him such signal 
favor in the eyes of the old ladies. He knew and was happy 
to know that they loved him. That was all. He never dreamed 
of being their heir; he never even imagined that they had any 
property to bequeath. He devoted himself with conscientious 
zeal to his profession, and went on, as he deserved to go on, 
from success to success. 

CHAPTER XIII. 


LADY VINCENT’S RECEPTION. 

The folds of her wine-dark violet dress 
Glow over the sofa fall on fall, 

As she sits in the light of her loveliness, 

With a smile for each and for all. 

Could we find out her heart through that velvet and lace, 

Can it beat without rumpling her sumptuous dress? 

She will show us her shoulder, her bosom, her face, 

But what her heart’s like, we must guess. 

—0. M. 

The evening of Lady Vincent’s reception arrived. At an un- 
fashionably early hour Judge Merlin’s country house was 
filled. 



“ And all her beauty irradiated with the light of a 

happy love.’^ 


^ —P^gf 8s 


Silf^Raised 




iiADT Vincent’s eeoeftion. 


83 


All the county families of any importance were represented 
there. The rustic guests, drawn, no doubt, not more by their 
regard for Judge Merlin and his daughter than by their 
curiosity to behold a titled foreigner. 

Mr. and Mrs. Middleton and Beatrice came very early, en- 
cumbered with several bandboxes; for their long ride made it 
necessary for them to defer their evening toilet until after 
their arrival. 

They were received and conducted to their rooms by old 
Aunt Katie. “ Lady Vincent,” she said, has not yet left her 
dressing room.” 

When their toilets were made, Mr. and Mrs. Middleton came 
to Bee’s door to take her down to the drawing room. 

Very beautiful indeed looked Bee, in her floating, cloud-like 
dress of snow-white tulle, with white moss-roses resting on 
Ler rounded bosom and wreathing her golden ringlets; and 
all her beauty irradiated with the light of a happy love. 

Her father smiled proudly and her mother fondly on her as 
she came out and joined them. 

The found the drawing rooms already well filled with guests. 

Lord and Lady Vincent stood near the door to receive all 
comers. To them the Middletons first went. 

Very handsome and majestic looked Claudia in her rich 
robe of royal purple velvet, with her raven black hair crowned 
with a diadem of diamonds, and diamonds blazing on her neck 
and arms and at her waist. Strangers looked upon her loveli- 
ness with unqualified delight. Her “ beauty made them glad.” 
But friends who saw the glittering surface and the alloy be- 
neath it, admired and sighed. Her dark eyes were beaming 
with light; her oval cheeks were burning with crimson fire. 
Mrs. Middleton thought this was fever; but Bee knew it was 
Trench rouge. 

Claudia received her friends with bright smiles and gay 
words. . She complimented them on their good looks and rallied 
them on their gravity. And then she let them lightly pass 
away to make room for new arrivals, who were approaching to 
pny their respects. 

They passed through the crowd until they found Judge Mer- 
lin, to whose care Mr. Middleton consigned Bee, while he him- 
self, with his wife on his arm, made a tour of all the rooms, 
including the supper room. 

. The party, they saw, was going to be a successful one, not- 


84 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

withstanding the fact that the three great metropolitan minis- 
ters of fashion had nothing whatever to do with it. 

Sam and Jim, with perfect liberty to do their worst in the 
matters of garden flowers and wax lights, had decorated and 
illuminated the rooms with the rich profusion for which the 
negro servants are notorious. The guests might have been in 
fairy groves and bowers, instead of drawing rooms, for any 
glimpse of walls or ceilings they could get through green boughs 
and blooming flowers. 

In the supper room old Aunt Katie with he:: attendant 
nymphs had laid a feast that might vie in “ toothsomeness ” if 
not in elegance with the best ever elaborated by the celebrated 
caterer. 

And in the dancing room the local band of negro musicians 
drew from their big Addle, little Addle, banjo, and bones notes 
as ear-piercing and limb-lifting, if not as scientiflc and artistic, 
as anything ever executed by Dureezie’s renowned troupe. 

The Englishman, secretly cynical, sneered at all this; but 
openly courteous, made himself agreeable to all the prettiest 
of the country belles, who ever after had the proud boast of 
having quadrilled or waltzed with Lord Vincent. 

The party did not break up until morning. The reason of 
this was obvious — the company could not venture to return 
home in their carriages over those dangerous country roads 
until daylight. 

It was, in fact, sunrise before the last guests departed and 
the weary family were at liberty to go to bed and sleep. They 
had turned the night into day, and now it was absolutely neces- 
sary to turn the day into night. 

They did not any of them awake until three or four o’clock 
in the afternoon, when they took coffee in their chambers. And 
they did not reassemble until the late dinner hour at six o’clock, 
by which time the servants had removed the litter of the party 
and restored the rooms to neatness, order, and comfort. 

The Middletons had not departed with the other guests. 
They joined the family at dinner. And after dinner, at the 
pressing invitation of Judge Merlin, they agreed to remain at 
Tanglewood for the few days that would intervene before the 
departure of Lord and Lady Vincent for Europe. Only Bee, 
the next morning, drove over to the Beacon to give the servants 
there strict charges in regard to the girls and boys, and to 
bring little Lu back with her to Tanglewood. 


LADY Vincent’s eeception. 85 

The next week was passed in making the final preparations 
for the voyage. 

And when all was ready on a bright Monday morning, the 
first of October, Lord and Lady Vincent, with their servants 
and baggage, departed from Tanglewood. 

Judge Merlin, leaving his house to be shut up by the Middle- 
tons, accompanied them to see them ofi in the steamer. 

It was quite an imposing procession that left Tanglewood 
that morning. There were two carriages and a van. In the first 
carriage rode Lord and Lady Vincent and Judge Merlin. In 
the second my lord’s valet and my lady’s three servants. And 
in the van was piled an inconceivable amount of luggage. 

This procession made a sensation, I assure you, as it lumbered 
along the rough country roads. Every little isolated cabin 
along the way turned out its ragged rout of girls and boys 
who threw up their arms with a prolonged “ Hooray ! ” as it 
passed — to the great disgust of the Englishman and the tran- 
sient amusement of the judge. As for Claudia, she sat back 
with her eyes closed and cared for nothing. 

The negroes came in for their share of notice. 

“Hooray, Aunt Katie, is that you a-ridin’ in a coach as 
bold as brass ? ” some wayside laborer would shout. 

“ As bold as brass yourself ! ” would be the irate retort of the 
old woman, nodding her head that was adorned with a red and 
yellow bonnet, from the window. 

“Hillo, Jim! that’s never you, going to forring parts as large 
as life ? ” would sing out another. 

“ Yes ! Good-by I God bless you all as is left behind ! ” 
would be Jim’s compassionate reply. 

“ Lord bless my soul and body, what a barbarous country I ” 
would be Lord Vincent’s muttered comment. And the judge 
would smile and Claudia slumber, or seem to do so. 

And this happened over and over again all along the turn- ' 
pike road, until they got to Shelton, where they embarked 
on the steamer “Arrow” for Baltimore, where they arrived 
the next day at noon. 

They made no stay in the Monumental City. Old Katie’s 
dilated eyes had not time to relieve themselves by one wink 
over the wonders of the new world into which she was intro- 
duced, before, to her “surprise and ’stonishment,” as she af- 
terwards expressed it, she found herself “ on board the cars, 
being whisked off somewhere else. And if you would believe 


86 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

her racket, she had to hold the h’ar on her head to keep it from 
being streamed off in the flight. And she was no sooner set 
down comfortable in the cars at Baltimore than she had to 
get up and get outen them at New York. And you better had 
believe it, chillun, that’s all.” 

Old Aunt Katie must have slept all the way through that 
night’s journey; for it is certain that the cars in which she 
traveled left Baltimore at eight o’clock in the evening and ar- 
rived at New York at six o’clock the next morning. 

After their dusty, smoky, cindery ride of ten hours our party 
had barely time to find their hotel, cleanse and refresh them- 
selves with warm baths and changes of raiment and get their 
breakfasts comfortably, before the hour of embarkation arrived. 
Kor they were required to be on board their steamer at ten 
o’clock, as she was announced to sail at twelve, meridian. 

At ten, therefore, the carriages that had been ordered for the 
purpose of conveying them to the pier were announced. 

Lower and lower sank the heart of the widowed father as 
the moment approached that was to separate him from his 
only child. There were times when he so dreaded that moment 
as to wish for death instead. There were times when he felt 
that the wrench which should finally tear his daughter from 
him must certainly prove his death-blow. Yet, for her sake, 
he bore himself with composure and dignity. He would not let 
her see the anguish that was oppressing his heart. 

He entered the carriage with her and drove to the pier. He 
drew her arm within his own, keeping her hand pressed against 
his aching heart, and so he led her up the gang-plank on board 
the steamer. Lord Vincent and their retinue following. He 
would not trust himself to utter any serious words; but he led 
her to find her stateroom, that he might see for himself she 
would be comfortable on her voyage, and that he might carry 
away with him a picture of her and her surroundings in his 
memory. And then he brought her up on deck and found a 
pleasant seat for her, and sat down beside her, keeping her arm 
within his and her hand pressed as a balm to his covered bleed- 
ing heart. 

There he sat, speaking but little, while active preparations 
were made for sailing. It looked to him like preparations for 
an execution. 

Lord Vincent walked up and down the deck, occasionally 
stopping to exchange a word with Claudia, or the judge. 


LADY Vincent’s keception. 87 

A.t length the signal-bell rang out, every peal striking like 
a death-toll on the heart of the old man. 

And the order was shouted forth: 

All hands ashore ! ” 

The moment of life and death had come. He started up; 
he strained his daughter to his breast. He gasped : 

“God bless you, my dear! Write as soon as you land!” 

He wrung the hand of Lord Vincent. “ Be good to ” 

He choked, and hurried from the steamer. 

He stood alone on the pier gazing at the receding ship, and 
at his daughter, who was leaning over the bulwarks, waving 
her handkerchief. Swiftly, swiftlj*^, receded the ship from his 
strained sight. First his daughter’s face faded from his aching 
vision ; but still he could see the outline of her form. A minute 
or two and even that grew indistinct and was lost among the 
rigging. And while he was still straining his eyes to the 
cracking, in the effort to see her, the signal gun from the steamer 
was fired. The farewell gun! The ball seemed to strike his 
own heart. All his strength forsook him; his well-strung 
nerves suddenly relaxed; his limbs gave way beneath him, and 
he must have fallen but for the strong arms that suddenly 
clasped him and the warm bosom that firmly supported him. 

Turning up his languid, fainting eyes, he saw — ■ 

“ Ishmael!” 

Yes, it was Ishmael, who with a son’s devotion was standing 
there and sustaining Claudia’s forsaken father in the hour of 
his utter weakness and utmost need. 

At first the judge looked at him in surprise and incredulity, 
which soon, however, gave way before recognition and affection, 
as he rested on that true breast and met those beautiful eyes 
bent on him in deepest sympathy. 

“Oh, Ishmael, Ishmael, is it you? is it indeed you? You 
here at need ? Oh, my son, my son, would to the Lord that you 
were indeed my son ! It is a grief and folly that you are not I ” 
he exclaimed with emotion. 

What could Ishm.ael reply to these words? Nothing. He 
could only tenderly support the old man and turn to a gray- 
haired servant that waited behind him and say: 

“ Professor, go call a carriage here quickly ! ” 

And Jim Morris started on his errand, with all the crippled 
alacrity of age and zeal. 

“ Oh, Ishmael, she has gone ! she has gone I My daughter has 


88 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

left me ! ” he groaned, grasping the hand of his young sup- 
porter. 

know it, sir, I know it. But this hour of parting is the 
bitterest of all. The heart feels the wrench of separation 
keenly now.” 

“ Oh, yes, yes I ” 

“ But every coming hour will bring relief. You will cease 
to look back to the bitter parting, and you will look forward 
to the happy meeting. And that meeting may be as soon as 
you please, sir, you know. There is nothing on earth to prevent 
or even delay your visit to Lady Vincent as soon after she gets 
settled at home, as you like. This is October. You may spend 
Christmas with her, you know.” 

“That is true; that is very true, and Christmas is not so 
very far off. Ah ! I ought not to have given way so, and I should 
not have done it, only I was quite alone when they sailed. 
There was no one with me to suggest these comforting thoughts, 
and I was too much prostrated by the wrench of parting to 
remember them of myself. Oh, Ishmael! what Providence was 
it that sent you to my side in this extremity ? ” inquired the 
judge, curiosity mingling with his interest in the question. 

“ I came here,” said Ishmael frankly, “ with no other purpose 
than to be with you in your hour of trial. I knew that you 
would require the presence of some friend.” 

“ Ah, Ishmael ! it was just like you to drop all your business 
and come uncalled, traveling from Washington to Hew York, 
with the sole object of sustaining an old friend in the hour of 
his weakness. So that does not surprise me. But how did 
you hit the time so well ? ” 

“ I knew from Bee’s last letter, dated from Tanglewood, the 
day that Lord Vincent had positively determined to sail. I 
knew also the name of the only steamer that sailed for Europe 
on that day. And so, as Bee expressed great regret that her 
father could not accompany you to Hew York, and great 
anxiety because you would be left quite alone after the trial 
of parting with Claudia, I suddenly resolved to come on. I 
came on by the same train that brought your party, although 
not in the same car. I reached the city this morning, and 
finding that the steamer was to sail at twelve, noon, I walked 
down to the pier at half -past eleven so as to be ready to meet 
you when you should come ashore.” 

“And you took all this thought and trouble for me? Oh, 


LADY Vincent’s keception. 89 

Ishmael, Ishmael, what a sorrow and shame it is that you are 
not my son ! ” 

“I am your son in reverence, and love, and service, sir; 
and if I am not in any other way it is because the Lord has 
willed otherwise,” said Ishmael very gravely. 

^‘Did you see Claudia off?” inquired the judge. 

saw the steamer; I did not see Lady Vincent. I was in 
the rear of the crowd on the pier and looking out among them 
that I might not miss you,” replied Ishmael. But he did not 
add that he had sedulously avoided looking at Claudia as she 
stood beside her husband on the deck waving her handkerchief 
in adieus to her father. 

In a few minutes Jim Morris came up with a comfortable 
carriage, and the judge, somewhat recovered now, was assisted 
into it. 

“You are coming too, Ishmael, are you not?” said the old 
man, looking anxiously out of the window. 

“ Of course I am, sir; for with your permission I will not 
leave you until we get back to Washington,” replied the young 
man, preparing to spring into the carriage. But suddenly 
pausing with his hand on the door he inquired: 

“ Where shall I order the hackman to drive ? ” 

The judge named his hotel, which happened to be the very 
one at which Ishmael was stopping; and so the young man 
gave the order and entered the carriage. 

The professor climbed up to a seat beside the hackman, 
and the hack moved on. 

As the carriage turned into Broadway and rolled a long that 
magnificent street, the professor, from his elevated seat, gazed 
with ever-increasing delight and admiration on the wonders of 
the great eity spread before him. 

There were moments when honest Jim Morris was inclined 
to suspect that, some time within the past few weeks, he must 
have died, been buried, and risen again to some new stage of 
existence; so wonderful to him seemed the change in his life. 
He had not had his satisfaction with gazing when the carriage 
stopped at the hotel. 

Ishmael paid off the hack and gave his arm to the judge, 
and assisted him into the house. 

“Ishmael,” he said, as soon as they had reached a sitting 
room, “have you no other business in, Hew York than to look 
after me ? ” 


90 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

“None whatever. I am entirely at your service.” 

“ Then we But stop. Are you quite ready to return 

to Washington at any time? ” 

“ Quite ready to go at a moment’s warning, if required.” 

“ Then I think we had better take the early train to-morrow 
morning, for you ought not to be absent from your office, es- 
pecially during court term, and even I shall be better at home. 
We shall need to-day and to-night for rest, but we will start 
to-morrow. What do you think ? ” 

“ I think that is altogether the best plan.” 

As it was now about one o’clock the judge ordered luncheon. 
And when they had partaken of it, and the judge had druiiek 
several glasses of rich old port, he said : 

“ Ishmael, I did not get a wink of sleep last night, and this 
wine has made me drowsy. I think I will go to my chamber 
and lie down.” 

Ishmael gave the judge his arm and assisted him to his bed- 
room, and saw him lie down, and waited until he knew him 
to be in a deep, refreshing sleep; and then he closed the blinds, 
and darkened the room, and left him to repose. 

In the hall he spoke to one of the waiters, and placing a 
quarter of an eagle in his hand, requested him to go up and 
remain near the judge’s chamber door until he should awake. 

Then Ishmael sought the professor out and said to him: 

“ Professor, this is your first visit to New York, as it is also 
mine. Let us make use of the little time we have to see as 
much as we can.” 

Jim Morris eagerly jumped at the proposition. 

Ishmael sent for a carriage, and they started; the professor 
this time riding inside with Ishmael, as he always did when 
they were alone. 

They spent the whole afternoon in sight-seeing, and returned 
at sunset. 

The judge had not awakened, nor did he awake until roused 
by the ear-stunning gong that warned all the guests to prepare 
for dinner. 

He opened his eyes and stared around in bewilderment for 
a few seconds, and then seeing Ishmael, remembered every- 
thing. 

“Ah, my boy, now it is all come back to me afresh, and I 
have got to meet it all over again. I had been dreaming that 
I was at Tanglewood with n:y child, and she was neither mar- 


LADY Vincent’s reception. 91 

ried nor going to be. Now I have lost her anew,” he said, with 
a deep sigh. 

“ I know it, sir ; but with every sleep and every awakening 
this impression will be fainter and fainter. You will soon be 
cheerful and happy again, in the anticipation of going to see 
her.” 

Plague take that gong! how it does belabor and thrash 
one’s tympanum!” said the judge irritably, as he slowly arose 
to dress for dinner. 

After dinner Ishmael persuaded him not to stay in and 
mope, but to go with him to hear a celebrated traveler and 
eloquent lecturer, who was to hold forth in one of the churches 
on the manners and customs of the Laplanders. The professor 
also had leave to go. And the judge and Ishmael were well 
entertained and interested, and the professor was instructed 
and delighted. Evidently the old odd- job man, judging from 
his past and present experience, thought 

“ That now the kingdom must be coming, 

And the years of jubilo.” 

They returned to a late supper, and then retired to bed. 

Next morning they took the early train for Washington, 
where they arrived at seven o’clock. 

The judge went home with Ishmael and remained his guest 
for two or three days, while he wrote to Reuben Gray to send 
up Sam and the carriage for him; and waited for it to come. 

Ishmael at the same time took the responsibility of writing 
to Mr. Middleton, advising him to come up with the carriage 
in order to bear the judge company in his journey home. 

The last day of the week the carriage arrived with Mr. Mid- 
dleton inside and Sam on the box. And on Monday morning 
the judge, in better spirits than anyone could have expected 
him to be, took an afPectionate leave of Ishmael, and with Mr. 
Middleton for company, set out for Tanglewood, where in due 
time they arrived safely. 

We also must bid adieu to Ishmael for a short time and 
leave him to the successful prosecution of his business, and to 
the winning of new laurels. For it is necessary to the progress 
of this story that we follow the fortunes of Claudia, Viscountess 
Vincent. 


92 


self-raised; or, from the depths. 


CHAPTER XIV. 
romance and reality. 

If we had heard that she was dead 
We hastily had cried, 

“ She was so richly favored 
God will forgive her pride! ” 

But now to see her living death — 

Power, glory, arts, all gone — 

Her empire lost and her poor breath 
Still vainly struggling on! 

— Milnes. 

The Ocean Empress ” steamed her way eastward. The 
month was favorable; the weather bright; the wind fair and 
the sea calm. Every circumstance promised a pleasant voyage. 
Hone but a few unreasonable people grew seasick; and even 
they could not keep it up long. 

There was a very select and agreeable set of passengers in the 
£rst cabin. 

But Lord and Lady Vincent were the only titled persons 
present; and from both European and American voyagers re- 
ceived a ridiculous amount of homage. 

Claudia enjoyed the worship, though she despised the wor- 
shipers. Her spirits had rebounded from their depression. She 
was Lady Vincent, and in the present enjoyment and future 
anticipation of all the honors of her rank. She gloried in the 
adulation her youth, beauty, wealth, and title commanded from 
her companions on the steamer; but she gloried more in the 
anticipation of future successes and triumphs on a larger scale 
and more extensive field. 

She rehearsed in imagination her arrival in London, her in- 
troduction to the family of the viscount; her presentation to 
the queen; and the sensation she would produce at her ma- 
jesty’s drawing room, where she was resolved, even if it should 
cost her her whole fortune, to eclipse every woman present, not 
only in the perfection of her beauty, but also in the magnifi- 
cence of her dresses and the splendor of her jewels. And after 
that what a season she would pass in London! Whoever was 
queen of England, she would be queen of beauty and fashion. 

And then she would visit with Lord Vincent all the different 
seats of his family; and every seat would be the scene of a 


ROMANCE AND REALITY. 93 

new ovation! As the bride of the heir she would be idolized 
by the tenants and retainers of his noble family 1 

She would, with Lord Vincent, make a tour of the Continent; 
she would see everything worth seeing in nature and in art, 
modern and antique; she would be presented in succession at 
every foreign court, and everywhere by her beauty and splendor 
achieve new successes and triumphs! She would frequent the 
circles of American ministers, for the express purpose of meet- 
ing there her countrywomen, and overwhelming by her magnifi- 
cence those who had once dared to sneer at that high flavor of 
Indian blood which had given luster to her raven hair and fire 
to her dark eyes ! Returning to England after this royal prog- 
ress on the Continent she would pass her days in cherishing 
her beauty and keeping up her state. 

And the course of her life should be like that of the sun, 
beautiful, glorious, regnant! each splendid phase more dazzling 
than any that had preceded it. Was not this worth the price 
she paid for it? 

Such were Claudia^s dreams and visions. Such the scenes 
that she daily in imagination rehearsed. Such the future life 
she delighted to contemplate. And nothing — neither the at- 
tentions of her husband, the conversation of her companions, 
nor the beauty and glory of sea and sky — could .win her from the 
contemplation of the delightful subject. 

Meanwhile in that lovely October weather the “ Empress ” 
steamed her way over the sapphire blue sea and neared the cliffs 
of England. 

At length on a fine afternoon in October they entered the 
mouth of the Mersey River, and two hours later landed at 
Liverpool. 

Soon all was bustle with the custom house officers. 

Leaving their luggage in charge of his valet, to be got 
through the custom house, Lord Vincent hurried Claudia into 
a cab, followed her, and gave the direction: 

“ To the Crown and Miter.” 

Why not go to the Adelphi? All Americans go there, and 
I think it the best hotel in the city,” said Claudia. 

“ The Crown and Miter will serve our turn,” was the curt 
reply of the viscount. 

Claudia looked up in surprise at the brusqueness of his an- 
swer, and then ventured the opinion : 

^^It is a first-class hotel, of course?” 


94 self-eaised; oe, eeom the depths. 

"Humph! ” answered his lordship. 

They left the respectable-looking street through which they 
were driving and turned into a narrow by-street and drove 
through a perfect labyrinth of narrow lanes and alleys, made 
hideous by dilapidated and dirty buildings and ragged and 
filthy people, until at last they reached a dark, dingy-looking 
inn, whose creaking sign bore in faded letters : " The Crown 
and Miter.” 

" It is not here that you are taking me. Lord Vincent ? ” 
exclaimed Claudia in surprise and displeasure, as her eyes 
fell upon this house and sign. 

“ It certainly is. Lady Vincent,” replied his lordship, with 
cool civility, as he handed her out of the cab. 

" Why this — this is worse than the tavern you took me to in. 
Hew York. I never was in such a house before in all my life.” 

" It will have all the attractions of novelty, then.” 

"Lord Vincent, I do beg that you will not take me into 
this squalid place,” she said shrinking back. 

" You might find less attractive places than this in the 
length and breadth of the island,” he replied, as he drew her 
hand within his arm and led her into the house. 

They found themselves in a narrow passage, with stained 
walls, worn oil-cloth, and a smell of meat, onions, and smoke. 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Claudia, in irrepressible disgust. 

"You will get used to these little inconveniences after a 
while, my dear,” said his lordship. 

A man with a greasy white apron and a soiled napkin ap- 
proached them and bowed. 

"A bedroom and parlor, and supper immediately,” was Lord 
Vincent’s order to this functionary. 

" Yes, sir. We can be happy to accommodate you, sir, with 
a bedroom; the parlor, sir, is out of our power; we having non© 

vacant at the present time; but to-morrow, sir ” began the 

polite waiter, when Lord Vincent cut him short with: 

" Show us into the bedroom, then.” 

"Yes, sir.” And bowing, the waiter went before them up 
the narrow stairs and led them into a dusky, fady, gloomy- 
looking chamber, whose carpet, curtains, and chair coverings 
seemed all of mingled hues of browns and grays, and from their 
fadiness and dinginess almost indescribable in color. 

The waiter set the candle on the tall wooden mantelpiece 
and inquired: 


ROMANCE AND REALITY. 


95 


*'What would you please to order for supper?” 

What will you have, madam ? ” inquired Lord Vincent, re- 
ferring to Claudia. 

“Nothing on earth, in this horrid place! I am heart-sick,” 
she added, in a low, sad tone. 

“ The lady will take nothing. You may send me a beefsteak 
and a bottle of Bass’ pale ale,” said his lordship, seemingly 
perfectly careless as to Claudia’s want of appetite. 

“Yes, sir; shall I order it served in the coffee room?” 

“ No, send it up here, and don’t be long over it.” 

The waiter left the room. And Lord Vincent walked up and 
down the floor in the most perfect state of indifference to 
Claudia’s distress. 

She threw herself into a chair and burst into tears, ex- 
claiming : 

“You do not care for me at all! What a disgusting place 
to bring a woman — not to say a lady — into! If you possessed 
the least respect or affection for me you would never treat me 
so!” 

“I fancy that I possess quite as much respect and affection 
for you. Lady Vincent, as you do, or ever did for me,” he an- 
swered. 

And Claudia knew that he spoke the truth, and she could 
not contradict him; but she said: 

“ Suppose there is little love lost between us, still we might 
treat each other decently. It is infamous to bring me here.” 

“ You will not be required to stay here long.” 

“ I hope not, indeed ! ” 

At this moment the waiter entered to lay the cloth for the 
viscount’s supper. 

“What time does the first train for Aberdeen leave?” in- 
quired the viscount. 

“ The first train, sir, leaves at four o’clock in the morning, 
sir; an uncomfortable hour, sir; and it is besides the parlia- 
mentary, sir.” 

“ That will do. See if my people have come up from the cus- 
tom house.” 

“Yes, sir; I beg your pardon, sir, what name?” inquired the 
perplexed waiter. 

“No matter. Go look for a fellow who has in charge a large 
Humber of boxes and a party of male and female gorillas.” 

The man left the room to do his errand and to report below 


96 SELF'EAISED ; OE, FEOM THE DEPTHS. 

that the person in “ Number 13 ” was a showman with a lot of 
man-monkeys from the interior of Africa. 

But Claudia turned to her husband in astonishment. 

‘^Did I understand you to inquire about the train to Aber- 
deen ? ” 

‘^Yes,” was the short reply. 

But — I thought we were going to London — ^to Hurstmon- 
ceux House 

“Belgravia? No, my dear, we are going to Scotland.” 

“ But — ^why this change of plan ? My father and myself 
certainly understood that I was to be taken to London and 
introduced to your family and afterwards presented to her 
majesty.” 

“ My dear, the London season is over ages ago. Nobody that 
is anybody will be found in town until February. The court is 
at Balmoral, and the world is in Scotland. We go to Castle 
Cragg.” ^ 

“ But why could you not have told me that before ? ” 

“My dear, I like to be agreeable. And people who are al- 
ways setting others right are not so.” 

“ Is Lord Hurstmonceux at Castle Cragg ? ” 

“ The earl is at Balmoral, in attendance upon her majesty.” 

“ Then why do we not go to Balmoral ? ” 

“ The queen holds no drawing rooms there.” 

Claudia suspected that he was deceiving her; but she felt 
that it would do no good to accuse him of deception. 

The waiter returned to the room, bringing Lord Vincentes 
substantial supper, arranged on a tray. 

“ I have inquired below, sir ; and there is no one arrived hav- 
ing in charge your gorillas. But there is a person with a 
panorama, sir; and there is a person with three negro persons, 
sir,” said the waiter. 

“He will do. Send up the ^person with three negro per- 
sons,’ ” said the viscount. 

And once more the waiter left the room. 

In a few moments Lord Vincent’s valet entered. 

“Frisbie, we leave for Scotland by the four o’clock train, 
to-morrow morning. See to it.” 

“Yes, my lord. I beg your lordship’s pardon, but is your 
lordship aware that it is the parliamentary ? ” 

“ Certainly ; but it i? also the first. See to it that your gorillas 
are ready. And — Frisbie.” 


KOMANCE AND IlEALITY. 


97 


Yes, my lord.” 

“ Go and engage a first-class carriage for our own exclusive 
use.” 

“Yes, my lord,” said the man, with his hand still on the 
door, as if waiting further orders. 

“Lord Vincent, I would be obliged if you would tell him to 
send one of my women to me,” said Claudia coldly. 

“Women? Oh! Here, Frisbie! send the female gorillas 
up.” 

“I said one of my women, the elder one, he may send.” 

“ Frisbie, send the old female gorilla up, then.” 

The man went out of the room. And Claudia turned upon 
her husband: 

“Lord Vincent, I do not know in what light you consider 
it ; but I think your conduct shows bad wit and worse manners.” 

“ Lady Vincent, I am sorry you should disapprove of it,” 
said his lordship, falling to upon his beefsteak and ale, the 
fumes of which soon filled the room. 

But that was nothing to what was coming. When he had 
finished his supper he coolly took a pipe from his pocket, 
filled it with “negro-head,” and prepared to light it. Then 
stopping in the midst of his operations, he looked at Claudia 
and inquired: 

“ Do you dislike tobacco smoke ? ” 

“ I do not know, my lord. Ho gentleman ever smoked in 
my presence,” replied Claudia haughtily. 

“ Oh, then, of course, you don’t know, and never will until 
you try. There is nothing like experiment.” 

And Lord Vincent put the pipe between his lips and puffed 
away vigorously. The room was soon filled with smoke. That, 
combined with the smell of the beefsteak and the ale, really 
sickened Claudia. She went to the window, raised it and 
looked out. 

“You will take cold,” said his lordship. 

“ I would rather take cold than breathe this air,” was her 
reply. 

“ Just as you please ; but I hadn’t,” he said. And he went 
and shut down the window. 

Amazement held Claudia still for a moment; she could 
scarcely believe in such utter disregard of her feelings. At 
last, in a voice vibrating with ill-suppressed indignation, she 
said; 


98 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

“My lord, the air of this room makes me ill. If you must 
smoke, can you not do so somewhere else ? ” 

“ Where ? ” questioned his lordship, taking the pipe from his 
mouth for an instant. 

“Is there not a smoking room, reading room, or something 
of the sort, for gentlemen’s accommodation ? ” 

“In this place? Ha, ha, ha! Well, there is the taproom!” 

“ Then why not go there ? ” inquired Claudia, who had no 
very clear idea of what the taproom really was. 

Lord Vincent’s face flushed at what he seemed to think an 
intentional affront. 

“I can go into the street,” he said. 

And he arose and put on his greatcoat and his cap, and 
turned up the collar of his coat and turned down the fall of 
his cap, so that but little of his face would be seen, and so 
walked out. Then Claudia raised the window to ventilate the 
room, and rang the bell to summon the waiter. 

“ Take this service away and send the chambermaid to me,” 
she said to him when he came. 

And a few minutes after he had cleared the table and left 
the room the chambermaid, accompanied by old Katie, entered. 

“ Is there a dressing room connected with this chamber ? ” 
Lady Vincent inquired. 

“Law, no, mum! there isn’t sich a place in the house,” said 
the chambermaid. 

“This is intolerable! You may go; my own servants will 
wait on me.” 

The girl went out. 

“Unpack my traveling bag and lay out my things, Katie,” 
said Lady Vincent, when she was left alone with her nurse. 

But the old woman raised her hands, and rolled up her eyes, 
exclaiming : 

“Well, Miss Claudia, child! — I mean my ladyship, ma’am! 
— if this is Ingland, I never want to see it again the longest 
day as ever I live ! ” 

“ Liverpool is not England, Katie.” 

“ Live-a-pool, is it ? More like Die-a-pool ! ” grumbled old 
Katie, as she assisted her lady to change her traveling dress 
for a loose wrapper. 

“ How, what have you had to eat, my ladyship ? ” 

“Nothing, Katie. I felt as if I could not eat anything 
cooked in this ill-looking house.” 


ROMANCE AND REALITY. 99 

Nothing to eat ! ITl go right straight downstairs and make 
you some tea and toast myself,” said Katie. 

And she made good her words by bringing a delicate little 
repast, of which Claudia gratefully partook. 

And then Katie, with an old nurse’s tenderness, saw her mis- 
tress comfortably to bed, and cleared and darkened the room 
and left her to repose. 

But Claudia did not sleep. Her thoughts were too busy 
with the subject of Lord Vincent’s strange conduct from the 
time that he had at Niagara received those three suspicious 
letters up to this time, wdien with his face hid he was walking 
up and down the streets of Liverpool. 

That he sought concealment she felt assured by many cir- 
cumstances: his coming to this obscure tavern; his choosing 
to take his meals and smoke his pipe in his bedroom; and his 
walking out with his face muffled — all of which was in direct 
antagonism to Lord Vincent’s fastidious habits; and, finally, 
his taking a whole carriage in the railw’ay train, for no other 
purpose than to have himself and his party entirely isolated 
from their fellow-passengers. 

Lord Vincent came in early, and, thanks to the narcotic 
qualities of the ale, he soon fell asleep. 

Claudia had scarcely dropped into a doze before, at the dis- 
mal hour of three o’clock in the morning, they were roused up 
to get ready for the train. They made a hurried toilet and ate 
a hasty breakfast, and then set out for the station. 

It was a raw, damp, foggy morning. The atmosphere seemed 
as dense and as white as milk. No one could see a foot in ad- 
vance. And Claudia wondered how the cabmen managed to 
get along at all. 

They reached the station just as the train was about to 
start, and had barely time to hurry into the carriage that had 
been engaged for them before the whistle shrieked and they 
were off. Fortunately Frisbie had sent the luggage on in ad- 
vance, and got it ticketed. 

The carriage had four back and four front seats. Lord and 
Lady Vincent occupied two of the back seats, and their four 
servants the front ones. As they went on the fog really seemed 
to thicken. They traveled slowly and stopped often. And 
Claudia, in surprise, remarked upon these facts. 

^^One might as well be in a stage— for speed,” she com- 
plained. 


100 SELF raised; or, from the depths. 

“ It is the parliamentary train,” he replied. 

I have heard you say that before ; but I do not know what 
you mean by ‘ parliamentary ’ as applied to railway trains.” 

“ It is the cheap train, the slow train, the people’s train ; in 
fact, one that, in addition to first- and second-class carriages, 
drags behind it an interminable length of rough cars, in which 
the lower orders travel,” said his lordship. 

“ But why is it called the ‘ parliamentary ’ ? ” 

“ Because it was instituted by act of parliament for the ac- 
commodation of the people, or perhaps because it is so heavy 
and slow.” 

On they went, hour after hour, stopping every three or four 
miles, while the fog seemed still to condense and whiten. . 

At noon the train reached York, and stopped twenty minutes 
for refreshment. Lord Vincent did not leave the carriage, but 
sent his valet out to the station restaurant to procure what was 
needful for his party. And while the passengers were all hur- 
rying to and fro, and looking in at the carriage, he drew the 
curtains of his windows, and sat back far in his seat. 

Claudia would gladly have left the train and spent the in- 
terval in contemplating, even if it were only the outside of th6 
ancient cathedral of which she had read and heard so much. 

Lord Vincent assured her there was no time to lose in sight- 
seeing then, but promised that she should visit York at some 
future period. 

And the train started again. They began to leave the fog 
behind them as they approached the seacoast. They soon came 
in sight of the North Sea, beside which the railway ran for some 
hundred miles. Here all was bright and clear. And Claudia 
for a time forgot all the suspicions and anxieties that disturbed 
her mind, and with all a stranger’s interest gazed on the 
grandeur of the scenery and dreamed over the associations it 
awakened. 

Here “lofty Seaton-Helaval ” was pointed out to her. And 
Tinemouth, famed in song for its “haughty prioress,” and 
“ Holy Isle,” memorable for the inhumation of Constance de 
Beverly. 

At sunset they crossed Berwick bridge and entered Scot- 
land. 

Claudia was entirely lost in gazing on the present landscape, 
and dreaming of its past history. Here the association between 
scenery and poetry was perfect. Nature is ever young — and 


Romance and keality. 


101 

this was the very scene and the very hour described 
immortal poem, and as Claudia gazed she murmured 

“ Dny set on Norham’s castled steep, 

And Tweed’s fair river, broad and deep, 

And Cheviot’s mountains lone; 

The batUed towers, the donjon keep, 

The flanking walls that round it sweep. 

In yellow luster shone,” 

Yes! it was the very scene, viewed at the very hour, just as 
the poet described it to have been two hundred years before, 
when 

“ Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye, 

Of Lutterward and Scrivelbaye, 

Of Tam worth tower and town,” 

crossed with his knightly train into Scotland. There was the 
setting sun burnishing the brown tops of the Cheviot hills; 
gilding the distant ruined towers of Norham Castle, and light- 
ing up the waters of the Tweed. 

But there is little time for either observation or dreaming in 
a railway train. 

They stopped but a few minutes at Berwick, and then shot 
off northward, still keeping near the coast. 

Claudia looked out upon the gray North Sea, and enjoyed the 
magnificence of the coast scenery as long as the daylight lasted. 

When it was growing dark Lord Vincent said : 

“You had just as well close that window, Claudia. It will 
give us all cold ; and besides, you can see but little now.” 

“ I can see Night drawing her curtain of darkness around 
the bed of the troubled waters. It is worth watching,” mur- 
mured Claudia dreamily. 

“Bosh!” was the elegant response of the viscount; “you 
will see enough of the North Sea before you have done with it, 
I fancy.” And with an emphatic clap he let down the window. 

Claudia shrugged her shoulders and turned away, too proud 
to dispute a point that she was powerless to decide. 

They sped on towards Edinboro^ through the darkness of one 
of the darkest nights that ever fell. Even had the window 
been open Claudia could not have caught a glimpse of the 
scenery. She had no idea that they were near the capital of 
Scotland until the train ran into the station. Then all was 
bustle among those who intended to get out there. 

But through all the bustle Lord Vincent and his party kept 
their seats. 


in Scott^s 
the lines; 


10^ self-raised; or, from the depths. 

“ I am very "weary of this train. I have not left my seat for 
many hours. Can we not stop over night here? I should like 
to see Edinboro’ by daylight,” Claudia inquired. 

“ What did you say ? ” asked Lord Vincent, with nonchalance. 

Claudia repeated her question, adding: 

“I should like to remain a day or two in Edinboro’. I wish 
to see the Castle, and Holyrood Palace and Abbey, and Roslyn 
and Craigmiller, and ” 

^‘Everything else, of course. Bother! We have no time for 
that. I have taken our tickets for Aberdeen, and mean to sleep 
at Castle Cragg to-night,” replied the viscount. 

Claudia turned away her head to conceal the indignant 
tears that arose to her eyes. She was beginning to discover 
that her comfort, convenience, and inclination were just about 
the last circumstances that her husband was disposed to take 
into consideration. What a dire reverse for her, whose will 
from her earliest recollection had been the law to all around 
her! 

The train started again and sped on its way through the 
darkness of the night towards Aberdeen, where they arrived 
about eight o’clock. 

“Here at last the railway journey ends, thank Heaven,” 
sighed Claudia, as the train slackened its speed and crawled 
into the station. And the usual bustle attending its arrival 
ensued. 

Fortunately for Claudia, the viscount found himself too 
much fatigued after about sixteen hours’ ride to go farther 
that might. So he directed Mr. Frisbie to engage two cabs 
to take himself and his party to a hotel. 

And when they were brought up he handed Claudia, who was 
scarcely able to stand, into the first one, and ordered Frisbie 
to put the “ gorillas ” into the other. And they drove to a 
fourth- or fifth-rate inn, a degree or two dirtier, dingier, and 
darker than the one they had left at Liverpool. 

But Claudia was too utterly worn out in body, mind, and 
spirit to find fault with any shelter that promised to afford her 
the common necessaries of life, of which she had been deprived 
for so many hours. 

She drank the tea that was brought her, without question- 
ing its quality. And as soon as she laid her head on her pillow 
she sank into the dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion. 

She awoke late the next morning to take her first look at the 


ROMANCE AND REALITY. 


103 


old town tKrougli a driving rain that lashed the narrow 
windows of her little bedroom. Lord Vincent had already risen 
and gone out. 

She rang for her servants. Old Katie answered the bell, 
entering with uplifted hands and eyes, exclaiming: 

“Well, my ladyship! if this aint the outlandishest country 
as ever was ! Coming over from t’other side we had the ocean 
unnerneaf of us, and now ’pears to me like we has got it over- 
head of us, by the fog and mist and rain perpetual! And if 
this is being of lords and ladyships, I’d a heap leifer be misters 
and mist’esses, myself.” 

“I quite agree with you, Katie,” sighed Lady Vincent, as, 
Tvith the old woman’s assistance, she dressed herself. 

“ It seems to me like as if we was regerlerly sold, my lady- 
ship,” said old Katie mysteriously. 

“Hush! Where are we to have breakfast — not in this dis- 
ordered room, I hope ? ” 

Ko, my ladyship. They let us have a little squeezed-up 
parlor that smells for all the world as if a lot of men had been 
smoking and drinking in it all night long. My- lordship’s 
down there, waiting for his breakfast now. Pretty place to 
fetch a ’spectable cullored pusson to, let alone a lady! Well, 
one comfort, we won’t stay here long, cause I heard my lordship 
order Mr. Frisbie to go and take two inside places and four 
outside places in the stage-coach as leaves this mornin’ for 
Han. ^ Ban,’ ^ Ban ’ ; ’pears like it’s been all ban and no bless- 
in’ ever since we done lef’ Tanglewood.” 

Lady Vincent did not think it worth while to correct Katie. 
She knew by experience that all attempts to set her right would 
be lost labor. 

She went downstairs and joined Lord Vincent in the little 
parlor, where a breakfast was laid of which it might be said 
that if the coffee was bad and the bannocks worse, the kippered 
herrings were delicious. 

After breakfast they took their places in or on the Banff 
mail coach; Lord and Lady Vincent being the sole passengers 
inside; and all their servants occupying the outside. And so 
they set out through the drizzling rain and by the old turnpike 
road to Banff. 

This road ran along the edge of the cliffs overhanging the 
sea — the sea, ever sublime and beautiful, even when dimly seen 
through the dull veil of a Scotch mist. 


104 self-eaised; ob, from the depths. 

Claudia was not permitted to open the window; but she kept 
the glass polished that she might look out upon the wild 
scenery. 

Late in the afternoon they reached the town of Banff, where 
they stopped only long enough to order a plain dinner and 
engage flies to take them on to their flnal destination, Castle 
Cragg, which in truth Claudia was growing very anxious to 
behold. 

CHAPTEE XV. 

CASTLE CRAGG. 

The wildest scene, but this, can show 
Some touch of nature’s genial glow; 

But here, above, around, below. 

On mountain or in glen. 

Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower. 

Nor aught of vegetative power 
The weary eye may ken. 

For all is rocks at random thrown, 

Black waves, bare crags, and banks of stone. 

—Scott. 

Immediately after dinner they set out again on this last 
stage of their journey, Claudia and Vincent riding in the first 
fly and Frisbie and the “gorillas” in the second one. The 
road still lay along the cliffs above the sea. And Claudia still 
sat and gazed through the window of the fly as she had gazed 
through the window of the coach, at the wild, grand, awful 
scenery of the coast. Hour after hour they rode on until the 
afternoon darkened into evening. 

The last object of interest that caught Claudia’s attention, 
before night closed the scene, was far in advance of them up 
the coast. It was a great promontory stretching far out into 
the sea and lifting its lofty head high into the heavens. Upon 
its extreme point stood an ancient castle, which at that height 
seemed but a crow’s nest in size. 

Claudia called Lord Vincent’s attention to it. 

“ What castle is that, my lord, perched upon that high prom- 
ontory? I should think it an interesting place, an historical 
place, built perhaps in ancient times as a stronghold against 
Danish invasion,” she said. 

“ That? Oh, ah, yes ! That is a trifle historical, in the record 
of a score of sieges, storms, assaults, and so on; and a bit tra- 
ditional, in legends of some hundred capital crimes and mortal 


CASTLE CRAGa. 


105 


sins; and in fact altogether, as you say, rather interesting, es- 
pecially to you, Claudia. It is Castle Cragg, and it will have 
the honor to be your future residence.” 

“ Heaven forbid ! ” exclaimed Claudia, gazing now in con- 
sternation upon that drear, desolate, awful rock. Dread point 
of Dis” it seemed indeed to her. 

“For a season only, my dear, of course,” said the viscount, 
with the queerest of smiles, of which Claudia could make 
nothing satisfactory. 

She continued to look out, but the longer she gazed upon that 
awful cliff and the nearer she approached it, the more appalled 
she became. She now saw, in turning a winding of the coast, 
that the point of the cliff stretched much farther out to sea 
than had at first appeared, and that only a low neck of land 
connected it with the main; and she knew that when the tide 
was high this promontory must be entirely cut off from the 
coast and become, to all intents and purposes, an island. Ap- 
proaching nearer still, she saw that the cliff was but a huge, 
bare, barren rock, of which the castle, built and walled in of 
the same rock, seemed but an outgrowth and a portion. 

If this rock-bound, sea-walled dwelling-place, which had evi- 
dently been built rather for a fortification than for a family 
residence, struck terror to the heart of Claudia, what effect 
must it have had upon the superstitious mind of poor old 
Katie, riding in the fly behind, when Mr. Frisbie was so good 
as to point it out to her with the agreeable information that it 
was to be her future home. 

“ What, dat ! ” exclaimed the old woman in consternation. 
“You don’t mean dat! Well, lord! I’se offen hearn tell of 
de ‘Debbil’s Icy Peak,’ but I nebber expected to cotch my 
eyes on it, much less lib on it, I tell you all good ! ” 

“ That’s it, hows’ever, Mrs. Gorilla,” said Mr. Frisbie. 

“ I keep a-telling you as my family name aint Gorilla, it’s 
Mortimer ; dough Gorilla is a perty name, too ; it ralely is, on’y 
you see, chile, it aint mine,” said unconscious Katie. 

But the darkening night shut out from their view the awful 
cliff to which, however, they were every moment approaching 
nearer. 

Fortunately as the carriages reached the base of this cliff 
the tide was low, and they were enabled to pass the neck of 
land that united the island to the coast and made it a promon- 
tory. After passing over this narrow strip they ascended the cliff 


106 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

by a road so steep that it had been paved with flagstones 
placed edgeways to afford a hold for the horses’ hoofs and aid 
them in climbing. It was too dark to see all this then; but 
Claudia knew from the inclined position of the carriage how 
steep was the ascent, and she held her very breath for fear. 
As for old Katie, in the carriage behind, she began praying. 

A solitary light shone amid the darkness above them. It 
came from a lamp at the top of the castle gate. They reached 
the summit of the cliff in safety, and Lady Vincent breathed 
freely again and old Katie’s prayers changed to thanksgivings. 

They crossed the drawbridge over the ancient moat and en- 
tered the castle gate. The light above it revealed the ghastly, 
iron-toothed portcullis, that looked ready to fall and impale 
any audacious passenger under its impending fangs. And they 
entered the old paved courtyard and crossed over to the main 
entrance of the castle hall. 

Here, at length, some of the attendant honors of Lady Vin- 
cent’s new rank seemed ready to greet her. 

The establishment had been expecting its lord and had heard 
the sound of carriages. The great doors were thrown open; 
lights flashed out; liveried servants appeared in attendance. 

“ You got my telegram, I perceive, Cuthbert,” Lord Vincent 
said to a large, red-haired Scot, in plain citizen’s clothes, who 
seemed to be the porter. 

“ Yes, me laird, though, as ye ken, the chiels at yon office at 
Banff hae to send it by a special messenger — sae it took a long 
time to win here.” 

“All right, Cuthbert, since you received it in time to be 
ready for us. Light us into the green parlor, and send the 
housekeeper here to attend Lady Vincent.” 

“Yes, me laird,” answered the man, bowing low before he 
led the way into a room so elegantly furnished as to afford a 
pleasant surprise to Claudia, who certainly did not expect to 
find anything so bright and new in this dark, old castle. 

Here she was presently joined by a tall, spare, respectable- 
looking old woman in a black linsey dress, white apron and neck 
shawl, and high-crowned Scotch cap. 

“ How do you do, dame? You will show Lady Vincent to her 
apartments and wait her orders.” 

“Eh, sirs! anither ane!” ejaculated the old woman under 
her breath; then turning to Claudia, with a courtesy she said; 

“ I am ready to attend your leddyship.” 


CASTLE CEAGG. 


m 

Claudia arose and followed her through the vast hall and up 
the lofty staircase to another great square stone hall, whose 
four walls were regularly indented by lines of doors leading 
into the bed chambers and dressing rooms. 

And as Claudia looked upon this array, her first thought 
was that a stranger might easily get confused among them 
and open the wrong door. And that it would be well to have 
them numbered as at hotels to prevent mistakes. 

The old housekeeper opened one of the doors and admitted 
her mistress into a beautifully furnished and decorated suite 
of apartments which consisted of boudoir, bedroom, and dressing 
room opening into each other, so that, as Claudia entered the 
first, she had the vista of the three before her eyes. The floors 
were covered with Turkey carpets so soft and deep in texture 
that they yielded like turf under the tread. And the heavy 
furniture was all of black walnut; and the draperies were all 
of golden-brown satin damask and richly embroidered lace. 

The effect of the whole was warm, rich, and comfortable. 

Claudia looked around herself with approbation; her spirits 
rose; she felt reconciled to the rugged old fortress that con- 
tained such splendors within its walls; for who would care 
how rough the casket, so that the jewels it held were of the 
finest water ? Her plans “ soared up again like fire.” 

She passed through the whole suite of rooms to the dressing 
room, which was the last in succession, and seated herself in 
an easy-chair beside a bright coal fire. 

“ The dinner will be served in an hour, me leddy. Will I 
bring your leddyship a cup of tea before you begin to dress ? ” 
inquired the housekeeper. 

*^If you please, you may send it to me by one of my own 
women. You are too aged to walk up and down stairs,” re- 
plied Claudia kindly. 

“Hech, sirs! I’m e’en reddy to baud me ain wi’ any lassie 
i’ the house,” said she, nodding her tall, flapping white sap. 

^‘Will you tell me your name, that I may know in future 
what to call you ? ” Claudia asked. 

“It’s e’en just Mistress Murdock, at your leddyship’s bid- 
ding. And now I’ll gae bring the tea.” 

“ Send my servant Katie to me at the same time,” said Lady 
Vincent, who, when she was left alone, turned again to view the 
magnificence that surrounded her. 

“ If ever I spend another autumn on this bleak coast, I shall 


108 SELF-EAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

take care to fill the castle halls and chambers with gay com- 
pany,” she said to herself. 

The housekeeper entered with an elegant little tea-service of 
gold plate, and set it on a stand of mosaic work, by Claudia’s 
side. 

While she was drinking her tea Katie entered, smiling with 
both her eyes and all her teeth. 

“Well, my ladyship, ma’am, this looks like life at last; don’t 
it, though ? ” 

“I think so, Katie,” said her mistress, sipping her aromatic 
oolong.” 

“ I like Scraggy better nor I thought I would.” 

“You like what?” 

“ This big jail of a house — Scraggy something or other they 
call it.” 

“ Castle Cragg.” 

“Yes, that’s it; plague take the outlandish names, I say!” 

“Kow, Katie, unpack my maize-colored moire antique. I 
must dress for .dinner.” 

Of course Claudia expected to meet no one at dinner except 
the disagreeable companion of her journey; but Claudia would 
have made an elaborate evening toilet had there been no one 
but herself to admire it. 

So she arrayed herself with very great splendor and went 
downstairs. 

In the lower hall she found the porter and several footmen. 

“ Show me into the drawing room,” she said to the former. 

Old Cuthbert bowed and walked before her, and threw open 
a pair of folding doors leading into the grand saloon of the 
castle. And Claudia entered. 

CHAPTER XVL 

FAUSTINA. 

And she was beautiful, they said; 

I saw that she was more — 

One of those women women dread, 

Men fatally adore. 

— Anon. 

It was a saloon of magnificent proportions and splendid 
decorations. And Claudia was sailing across it with majestic 
gait, in the full consciousness of being the Viscountess Yin- 


FAUSTINA. 


109 


cent and Lady of the Castle, when suddenly her eyes fell upon 
an object that arrested her footsteps, while she gazed in utter 
amazement. 

One of the most transcendently beautiful women that she had 
ever beheld lay leclining in the most graceful and alluring 
attitude upon a low divan. Her luxuriant form, arrayed in 
rich, soft, white moire antique and lace, was thrown into 
harmonious relief by the crimson velvet cover of the divan. 
She was asleep, or perhaps affecting to be so. One fine, round, 
brown arm, with its elbow deep in the downy pillow, rose from 
its falling sleeve of silk and lace, and with its jeweled hand, 
buried in masses of glittering, purplish black ringlets, sup- 
ported a head that Rubens would have loved to paint. Those 
rich ringlets, flowing down, half veiled the rounded arm and 
full, curved neck and bosom that were otherwise too bare for 
delicacy. The features were formed in the most perfect mold 
of Oriental beauty; the forehead was broad and low; the nose 
fine and straight; the lips plump and full; and the chin small 
and rounded. The eyebrows were black, arched, and tapering 
at the points; the eyelashes were black, long, and drooping 
over half-closed, almond-shaped, dark eyes that seemed floating 
in liquid fire. The complexion was of the richest brown, ripen- 
ing into the most brilliant crimson in the oval cheeks and dewy 
lips that, falling half open, revealed the little glistening white 
teeth within. While one jeweled hand supported her beautiful 
head the other drooped over her reclining form, holding 
negligently, almost unconsciously, between thumb and finger, 
an odorous tea-rose. 

Claudia herself was a brilliant brunette, but here was another 
brunette who eclipsed her in her own splendid style of beauty 
as an astral lamp outshines a candle. Cleopatra, Thais, 
Aspasia, or any other world-renowned siren who had governed 
kingdoms through kings^ passions, might have been just such a 
woman as this sleeping Venus. 

Doubting really whether she slept or not, Claudia approached 
and looked over her; and the longer she looked the more she 
wondered at, admired, and instinctively hated this woman. 

Who was she ? What was she ? How came she there ? 

So absorbed was Claudia in these questions, while gazing at 
the beautiful and unconscious subject of them, that she did 
not perceive the approach of Lord Vincent until he actually 
stood at her side. 


110 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

Then looked up at him inquiringly, and pointed at the 
sleeping beauty. 

But instead of replying to her, he bent over the sleeper and 
whispered : 

“ Faustina ! 

iN’ow, whether she were really sleeping or shamming, the 
awakening, real or pretended, was beautiful. The drooping, 
black-fringed eyelids slowly lifted themselves from the eyes — 
two large black orbs of soft fire; and the plump, crimson lips 
opened, and dropped two liquid notes of perfect music — the 
syllables of his baptismal name: 

« Malcolm!” 

“ Faustina, you are dreaming ; awaken ! remember where you 
are,” he said in a low voice. 

She slowly raised herself to a sitting posture and looked 
around; but every movement of hers was perfect grace. 

‘‘Lady Vincent, this is Mrs. Dugald,” said the viscount. 

Claudia drew back a step, and bent her head with an air of 
the most freezing hauteur. 

Mrs. Dugald also bent hers, but immediately threw it up 
and shook it back with a smile. 

So graceful was this motion that it can be compared to 
nothing but the bend and rebound of a lily. 

But when Claudia looked up she detected a strange glance 
of intelligence between her two companions. The beauty’s 
eyes flashed from their sheath of softness and gleamed forth 
upon the man — two living stilettos pointed with death. 

His look expressed annoyance and fear. 

He turned away and touched the bell. 

“Let dinner be served immediately,” he said to the servant 
who answered the summons. 

“Dinner is served, my lord,” answered the man, pushing 
aside the sliding doors opening into the dining room. 

Lord Vincent waved his hand to Lady Vincent to precede 
them, and then gave his arm to Mrs. Dugald to follow her. 

But when they reached the dining room Mrs. Dugald left 
his arm, advanced to the head of the table, and stood with her 
hand upon the back of the chair and her gaze upon the face of 
the viscount. 

“Ho; Lady Vincent will take the head of the table,” said 
his lordship, giving his hand to Claudia and installing her. 

“As you will; but ‘where the MacD nald sits, there is the 


Faustina. 


Ill 

Read of the table/ ” said Mrs. Dugald, quoting the haughty 
words of the Lord of the Isles, as she gave way and subsided 
into a side seat. 

Lord Vincent, with a lowering brow, sat down. 

Old Cuthbert, who sometimes officiated as butler, placed 
himself behind his lord’s chair, and two footmen waited on the 
table. 

The dinner was splendid in its service, and luxurious in its 
viands; but most uncomfortable in its company, and it sug- 
gested the Scripture proverb : “ Better is a dinner of herbs 
where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.” 

Claudia, for one, was glad when it was over, and they were 
permitted to return to the saloon, where coffee awaited them. 

Mrs. Dugald, will you give me some music ? ” said Lord 
Vincent, in the course of the evening. 

The beauty arose, and floated away in her soft, swimming 
gait towards the piano. 

Lord Vincent went after her and opened the instrument; 
and when she sat down he stood behind her chair to turn over 
the music. 

She played a brilliant prelude, and then commenced singing. 

Claudia, who, at the proposition that Mrs. Dugald should 
give Lord Vincent “ some music,” had shrugged her shoulders 
and turned her back, was now startled. She turned around — 
listened. Claudia was a most fastidious connoisseur of music, 
and she recognized in this performer an artiste of the highest 
order. Claudia had heard such music as this only from the 
best opera singers — certainly from no unprofessional performer. 

After executing a few brilliant pieces the beautiful musician 
arose with a weary air and, saying that she was tired, cour- 
tesied, smiled, and withdrew from the room. 

Lord Vincent walked slowly up and down the floor. 

Who is Mrs. Dugald ? ” inquired Claudia coldly. 

“ Mrs. Dugald is — Mrs. Dugald,” replied his lordship, affect- 
ing a light tone. 

That is no answer, my lord.” 

“ Well, my lady, she is a relation of mine. Will that do for 
an answer ? ” 

“ What sort of a relation ? ” 

‘‘ A very near one.” 

How near ? ” 

“ She is my — sister,” smiled Lord Vincent. 


112 self-kaised; oe, from the depths. 

*^Your sister? I know that you have only two sisters, and 
they are styled ^ ladies ’ — Lady Eda and Lady Clementina 
Dugald. This is a ^ Mrs.’ She cannot be your sister, and not 
even your sister-in-law, since you have no brother.” 

The viscount coolly lighted his cigar and walked out of the 
room. 

Claudia remained sitting where he had left her, deeply per- 
plexed in mind. Then, feeling too restless to sit still, she arose 
and began to walk about the room and examine its objects of 
interest — its pictures, statues, vases, et cetera. 

She then went to the windows; the shutters were closed, the 
blinds down and the curtains drawn, so that she could not 
look out into the night; but she could hear the thunder of the 
sea as it broke upon the rock on which the castle was founded. 

Tired of that, she went to the music stand, near the piano, 
and began to turn over the music books. 

She picked up one from which Mrs. Dugald had been singing. 
In turning it over her eyes fell upon the picture of a full-length 
female form engraved upon the cover. She looked at it more 
closely. It was the portrait of the woman who had been intro- 
duced to her as Mrs. Dugald. But it bore the name; La 
Faustina, as Norma. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE PLOT AGAINST CLAUDIA. 

Alas! a thought of saddest weight 
Presses and will have vent: 

Had she not scorned his love, her fate 
Had been so different! 

Had her heart bent its haughty will 
To take him for its lord, 

She had been proudly happy still; 

Still honored, still adored. 

— Monckton Milnes. 

Indignation rooted Claudia to the spot. 

Instinct had already warned her that she was insulted 
and degraded by the presence of this strange woman in the 
house. 

Reason now confirmed instinct. 

And Claudia was entirely too self-willed and high-spirited 
to submit to either insult or degradation. 


THE PLOT AGAINST CLAUDIA. 


113 


She instantly resolved to demand of Lord Vincent the im- 
mediate dismissal of this woman, and to keep her own rooms 
until her demand was complied with. 

This, in fact, was the only truly dignified course of conduct 
that, under the circumstances, Claudia could have pursued. 

With this resolution she v/ithdrew from the drawing rooms, 
and went upstairs to seek her own apartment. 

Here the very accident happened that we mentioned as being 
so likely to happen to any newcomer to the castle. 

As she reached the great hall on the second floor she looked 
around upon the many doors that opened from its four walls 
into the many suites of apartments that radiated from it, as 
from a common center, to the outer walls of the castle keep. 

But which was her own door she was puzzled for a moment 
to decide. 

The chandelier that hung from the ceiling gave but a sub- 
dued light that helped her but little. 

At last she thought she had found her own door ; she 
judged it to be her own because it was partly open and she saw, 
through the vista of the three rooms, the little coal fire that 
burned dimly in the last one. 

So she silently crossed the hall, walking on the soft deep 
drugget, into which her footsteps sank noiselessly, as she en- 
tered what she supposed to be her own boudoir. 

The room was dark, except from the gleam of light that stole 
in from the chandelier in the hall, and the dull glow of the 
coal fire that might be dimly seen in the distant dressing room, 
at the end of the suite. 

Claudia, however, had no sooner entered the room and looked 
around than she discovered that it was not hers. This suite 
of apartments was arranged upon the same plan as her own — 
first the boudoir, then the bed chamber, and last the dressing 
room with the little coal fire ; but — the hangings were different ; 
for, where hers had been golden brown, these were rosy red. 

And she was about to retire and close the door softly when 
the sound of voices in the adjoining room arrested her steps. 

The first that spoke was the voice of Faustina, in tones of 
passionate grief and remonstrance. She was saying: 

But to bring her here ! here, of all the places in the world ! 
here, under my own very eyes ! Ah ! ” 

“ My angel, I had a design in bringing her here, a design in 
which your future honor and happiness is involved,” said the 


114 self-eaised; ok, from the depths. 

voice of Lord Vincent, in such tones of persuasive tenderness 
as he had never used in speaking to his betrayed and miserable 
wife. 

My honor and happiness ! Ah ! ” cried the woman with 
a half-suppressed shriek. 

“ Faustina, my beloved, listen to me ! ” entreated the vis- 
count. 

“ Do not love her ! Do not, Malcolm ! If you do I warn you 
that I shall kill her ! ” wildly exclaimed the woman, interrupt- 
ing him. 

My angel, I love only you. How can you doubt it ? ” 

“How can I doubt it? Because you have deceived me. Hot 
once, nor twice, nor thrice; but always and in everything, 
from first to last ! ” 

“Deceived you, Faustina! How can you say so? In what 
have I ever deceived you? Hot in vowing that I love you; for 
I do! You must know it. How, then, have I deceived you?” 

“You promised to make me your viscountess.” 

“And I will do so. I swear it to you, Faustina.” 

“ Ah, you have sworn so many oaths to me.” 

“I will keep them all — trust me! I would die for you; 
would go to perdition for you, Faustina!” 

“You will keep all your oaths to me, you say?” 

“ All of them, Faustina ! ” 

“ One of them is, that you will make me your viscountess ! ” 

“Yes, and I will do it, my angel. Who but yourself should 
share my rank with me? I will make you my viscountess, 
Faustina.” 

“ How can you do that, even if you wished to do so ? She is 
your viscountess.” 

“Yes, for a little while; and for a little while only. Until 
she has served the purpose for which I married her — and no 
longer,” said the viscount. 

“ Ah ! what do you mean ? ” There was breathless eagerness 
and ruthless cruelty in the tone and manner in which the 
woman put this question. 

The viscount did not immediately reply. 

And Claudia, her blood curdling with horror at what seemed 
plainly a design against her life, left her position near the door 
of the boudoir and concealed herself behind the crimson satin 
hangings; feeling fully justified in becoming an eavesdropper 
upon conversation that concerned her safety. 


THE PLOT AGAINST CLAUDIA. 


115 

“ What do you mean ? ” again whispered the woman, with 
restrained vehemence. 

“ ‘ Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, ’till you ap- 
prove the deed,’ ” quoted Lord Vincent. 

*^But trust me; I am ready to aid you in the deed, and to 
share with you the danger it must bring, for I love you, Mal- 
colm, I love you! Confide in me! Tell me what you mean,” 
she whispered in low, deep, vehement tones. 

“ I mean — not what you imagine, Faustina. Turn your face 
away. Those eyes of yours make my blood run cold. No! 
We English are not quite so ready with bowl and dagger as 
you Italians seem to be. We like to keep within bounds.” 

“I do not understand you, then.” 

“No, you do not. And you will not understand me any 
better when I say to you, that I shall get rid of my Indian 
Princess, not by breaking the law, but by appealing to the law.” 

“No; it is true; I do not understand you. You seem to be 
playing with me.” 

“Listen, then, you bewitching sprite. You reproached me 
just now with bringing her here, here under your very eyes, 
you said. Faustina, I brought her here, to this remote hold, 
that she might be the more completely in my power. That 
I might, at leisure and in safety, mature my plans for getting 
entirely rid of her.” 

“But, Malcolm, why did you marry her at all? Ah, I fear, 
I fear, it was after all a real passion, though a transient one, 
that moved you ! ” 

“ No ; I swear to you it was not ! I have never loved woman 
but you ! ” 

“ But why then did you marry her at all ? ” 

“My angel, I told you why. You should have believed 
me! My marriage was a financial necessity. The earl, my 
father, chose to take umbrage at what he called my disreput- 
able ” 

“ Bah ! ” exclaimed the woman, in contempt. 

“ Well, let the phrase pass. The Earl of Hurstmon'ceux chose 
to take offense at my friendship with your lovely self. And 
he — did not threaten to stop my allowance unless I would break 
with you; but he actually and promptly did stop it until I 
should do so.” 

“ Beast!” 

“ Certainly ; but then what was to be done ? I had no income ; 


116 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

nothing to support myself; much less you, with your elegant 
tastes.” 

“ I could have gone on the boards again ! I did not love you 
for your money; you know it, Malcolm.” 

“ I do know it, my angel ; and in that respect, as in all 
others, you were immeasurably above your fancied rival, who 
certainly loved me only for my rank.” 

“ But why then did you not rather let me return to the 
boards ? ” 

Where your beauty brought you so many admirers and me 
so many rivals ? ” 

“ But I preferred you to them all.” 

I know it, Faustina.” 

Why then not let me go ? ” 

could not bear the thought of it, my precious treasure. 
I preferred to sacrifice myself. The opportunity occurred in 
this way. You know that I left England as the bearer of dis- 
patches to our minister in the United States.” 

“Yes.” 

“ The very day after I reached Washington I met at the even- 
ing reception at the President’s house this Indian Princess, 
as she was called. I was no sooner presented to her than she 
began to exercise all her arts of fascination upon me. But 
my heart was steeled by its love for you against the charms 
of all others.” 

“Ah! don’t stop to pay compliments; go on.” 

“Well, but I was good-natured, and I flattered her vanity 
by flirting with her a little.” 

“ A little ! ” repeated the woman, curling her beautiful lip. 

“Yes, only a little; for I had no idea of seriously addressing 
her until I discovered that she possessed in her ovm right one 
of the largest fortunes in the — ^world, I was going to say — and 
I should' not have been far wrong, for she had in fact inherited 
three immense fortunes. This was the way of it. Her mother 
was the only child of a millionaire, and of course inherited 
the whole of her father’s estate. She had also two bachelor 
imcles who had made immense fortunes in trade, and who left 
the whole to their niece, in her own right. She, dying young, 
bequeathed the whole unconditionally to her daughter.” 

“ Ciel ! what good luck I How much is it all put together ? 

“ About three millions of pounds sterling.” 

“Ma foil In what does it consist^’” 


THE PLOT AGAINST CLAUDIA. 


117 

did consist in bank stock, railway shares, lead mines, 
city houses, iron foundries, tobacco plantations, country seats, 
gorillas, etc. It now consists in money.” 

“But what good, if you get rid of her, will it do you? Is 
it not settled on the lady?” 

“ No ! I took very good care of that. When I saw that she 
was doing all she could to entrap — not me, for for me she did 
not care, but — a title, I humored her by falling into the snare. 
I addressed her. We were engaged. Then her governor talked 
of settlements. I took a high tone, and expressed astonishment 
and disgust that any lady who was afraid to trust me with her 
money should be so willing to confide to me the custody of her 
person. And the negotiations might have come to an end then 
and there, had not the lady herself intervened and scornfully 
waived the question of settlements. She had always ruled her 
father and everyone else around her in every particular, and 
she ruled in this matter also. The fact is, that she was deter- 
mined to be a viscountess at any price, and she is one — ^for a 
little while ! ” 

“What a fool!” 

“ Yes, she was a poor gambler; for it was a game between us. 
She was playing for a title, I for a fortune; well, she won the 
title and I won the fortune. Or rather you may call it purchase 
and sale. She bought a title and paid a fortune for it. For the 
moment the marriage ring encircled her finger she became the 
Viscountess Vincent and I became the possessor of her three 
millions of pounds sterling.” 

“Ah, that marriage ring! There is another broken oath! 
You swore to me, once, that no living woman should ever wear 
a marriage ring of your putting on, except myself ! ” complained 
Faustina. 

“And I have kept that oath, my angel. If ever you see Lady 
Vincent without her gloves, look on the third fingpr of her 
left hand and see if there is any wedding ring to be found 
there.” 

“ But you yourself, just now, spoke of the ring on her finger, 
saying that as soon as it was placed there, you became the 
possessor of her three millions of pounds sterling.” 

“ I will explain. Listen ! I remembered my vow to you. I 
got the ring purposely too large for her finger; consequently, 
soon after it was placed on, it dropped off and rolled away. 
When the ceremony was over the gentlemen searched for it. I 


118 SELF-EAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

found it and concealed it. She never saw it again. Here it is, 
I give it to you.” 

Claudia from her hiding place stooped forward until she got 
a glimpse of the two traitors. 

She saw the viscount open his pocketbook and take from an 
inner compartment her own wedding ring, and place it upon the 
finger of his companion, saying: 

* There, my angel, wear it; it will fit your fat finger, though 
it was too large for her slender one.” 

“ What will she say when she sees it ? ” inquired the woman, 
contemplating the golden circle with a triumphant smile. 

“ She will not recognize it. All wedding rings are alike. 
This one has no mark to distinguish it from all other wedding 
rings.” 

And so I have got it ! ” said the woman, clapping her 
hands gleefully. 

‘‘Yes, my sweet, and you shall have everything else; the 
three millions of pounds sterling and the title of viscountess 
included.” 

“ Ah ! but how got you all the fortune in money so easily ? ” 

“I sold everything, bank stock, railway shares, city houses, 
tobacco plantations, lead mines, foundries, gorillas, and all! 
And I have transferred the whole in simple cash to this 
country.” 

“ And it is three millions ? ” 

“ Three millions.” 

“Ciel! How, then, I can have my villa at Torquay, and 
my yacht, and my ” 

“ You can have everything you want now, and the rank and 
position of viscountess as soon as I can get rid of her.” 

“ Ah, yes ! but when will that be ? ” 

“Very, very soon, I hope. Just as soon as I can mature my 
plans.” 

“ But what are they ? ” 

“Scarcely to be breathed even here. The very walls have 
ears, you know.” 

“Tell me; what does the earl think of this marriage of 
yours ? ” 

“ So, so ; he wrote me a cool letter, saying that he would have 
preferred that I should have married an Englishwoman of my 
own rank; but that since the lady was of respectable family 
and large fortune, he should welcome her as a daughter. And 


THE PLOT AOAIHST CLAUDIA. 119 

finally, that any sort of a decent marriage was better than— 
but let that pass ! ” 

“ Yes, let it pass. Beast ! ” 

Never mind, my angel. Your turn will come.” 

Ah, surely, yes ! But is he not expecting to welcome his 
wealthy daughter-in-law ? ” 

“ Not yet. No, we have come over a full month before we 
were looked for. The earl is traveling on the Continent. His 
daughter-in-law will be disposed of before he returns to Eng- 
land.” 

“Ha, ha, good! But is not miladie amusing herself with 
the anticipation of being introduced to her noble father-in- 
law?” 

“Ha, ha, ha! yes! You would have been diverted, ‘Tina, 
if you could have heard her talk of her plans when coming over. 
Ah! but that was good. I laughed in my sleeve.” 

“ Tell me ! and I will laugh now.” 

“ Well, she expected to land on the shores of England like 
any royal bride; to find the Earl of Hurstmonceux waiting to 
welcome her; to be introduced to my family; to be presented 
to her majesty; to be feted by the nobility; lionized by the 
gentry ; and idolized by our own tenantry. In short, she dreamed 
of a grand royal progress through England, of which every 
stage was to be a glorious triumph ! Ha, ha, ha ! ” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! ” echoed Faustina. 

“ But instead of entering England like a royal bride, she 
was smuggled into England like a transported felon, who had 
returned before her time of penal service in the colonies had 
expired. Instead of a triumphal entry and progress along the 
highways, she was dragged ignominiously through the byways! 
Instead of halting at the palatial Adelphia, we halted at the 
obscure Crown and Miter.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! Good ! that was very good ! But why did you 
do this? Not that I care for her. I care not. But my 
curiosity. And it must have inconvenienced you, this squalor.” 

“ Well, it did. But I was resolved she should meet no coun- 
trymen; form no acquaintances; contract no friendships; in 
fine, have no party here in England. The Adelphia was full 
of American travelers; the Queen’s was full of my friends. 
In either she would have got into some social circles that might 
have proved detrimental to my purposes. As it was managed 
by me, no one, except the passengers that came over with us, and 


120 SELF-EAISED ; OE, FEOM THE DEPTHS. 

dispersed from Liverpool all over the Continent, knew anything 
about her arrival. At the Crown and Miter she was half a 
mile in distance and half a thousand miles in degtee from any- 
one connected with our circle. Mo one, therefore, knows her 
whereabouts ; no inquiries will be made for her ; we may do with 
her as we like.” 

Oh, ciel ! and we will quickly make way with her.” 

« Quickly.” 

But how?” 

“Another time I will tell you, ’Tina. Mow I must be gone. 
I must not linger here. It becomes us to be very wary.” 

“ Go, then. But ah ! you go to her. Misery ! Do not love 
her! If you do — ^remember I will kill her! I have sworn it. 
You say that you will make way with her by the help of the law. 
Do it soon ; or be sure I will make way with her in spite of the 
law.” 

“Hush! be tranquil. Trust in me. You shall know all in 
a few days. Good-night ! ” 

“ Ah ! you are leaving me. You, that I have not seen for so 
many months until now — and now have seen but a few minutes 
alone. And you go to her — ^her, with whom you have been in 
company all the time you have been away from me! Ah, I 
Late her ! I will kill her ! ” exclaimed the woman, in low, 
vehement tones. 

“Faustina, be quiet, or all is lost! You must be my sister- 
in-law only until you can be my wife. . To accomplish this pur- 
pose of ours, you must be very, very discreet, as I shall be. Be 
on your guard always. Treat Lady Vincent with outward 
respect, as I must do, in the presence of the servants. They 
must be our future witnesses. Surely you will be enabled to 
do what I require of you in this respect, when I assure you that 
I hate my viscountess as deeply as you hate your rival.” 

“Ha! you?” - 

“Yes; for in her heart she despises me and adores another. 
She is unfaithful to me in thought. And it shall go hard, but 
I will make it appear that she is unfaithful in deed, too, and 
so send her, dishonored and impoverished, from the castle,” 
said the viscount vindictively. 

“ Ciel ! Is that your plan ? I understand now. I trust you, 
my Malcolm.” 

“Good-night, then; and don’t be jealous.’' 

“Mever! I trust you. I shall triumph.” 


IN THE traitor’s TOILS. 


121 


CHAPTER XVni. 

IN THE traitor’s TOILS. 

Her heart is sick with thinking 
Of the misery she must find. 

Her mind is almost sinking — 

That once so buoyant mind — 

She cannot look before her, 

On the evil-haunted way. 

Redeem her! oh! restore her! 

Thou Lord of night and day! 

— Monckton Milnes. 

Overwhelmed with horror, terror, and indignation, Claudia 
just tottered from the room in time to escape discovery. 

On reaching the hall she saw the door leading into her own 
suite of apartments wide open and all the rooms lighted up and 
old Katie moving about, unpacking trunks and hanging up 
dresses. Katie, it seemed, with something like canine instinct 
as to locality, had experienced no difficulty in finding her 
mistress’ rooms. 

As soon as Lady Vincent entered her dressing room the old 
woman drew the resting chair and footstool up to the fire, and 
when Claudia had dropped into the seat she leaned over the 
back of the chair, and forgetting ceremony, spoke to her nurs- 
ling as she had spoken to her in the days of that nursling’s 
infancy. 

“Miss Claudia, honey, I wants to talk to you downright 
ser’us, I do.” 

“ Talk on, Katie,” sighed Claudia. 

“ But, ’deed, I’m feared I shall hurt your feelings, honey.” 

“You cannot do that.” 

“Well, then, honey — ^but ’deed you must excuse me. Miss 
Claudia, because I wouldn’t say a word, only I think how it is 
my bounden duty.” 

“Eor Heaven’s sake, Katie, say what you wish to without so 
much preface.” 

“Well, then. Miss Claudia — ^laws, honey, I’s nussed you 
ever since you was homed, and been like another mammy to you 
ever since your own dear mammy went to heaven, and if I 
haven’t got a right to speak free, I’d like to know who has ! ” 

“ Certainly ; certainly ! Only, in mercy, go on ! ” exclaimed 
Claudia, who, fevered, excited, and nearly maddened by what 


122 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEI>THS. 

she had overheard, could scarcely be patient with her old ser- 
vant. 

“ Well, Miss Claudia, honey, it is all about this strange 
foreign ’o'man as is a-wisiting here.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Claudia, looking up and becoming at once 
interested. 

“Miss Claudia, honey, that ’oman aint no fitting company 
for you. She aint.” 

“ Ah ! what do you know of her ? ” inquired Claudia in a low, 
breathless, eager voice. 

“Honey, I cotch my eye on her dis evening. You see dis 
was de way of it, chile. I was in dis very room; but I hadn^t 
lighted up de lamps, so I was in ’parative darkness, and de 
big hall was in ’parative light; so dey couldn’t see me, but I 
could see dem, when dey come into de big hall, her and my 
lordship. And I seen her how she look at him, and smile on. 
him, and coo over him like any turkle dove, as no ’spectable 
lady would ever do. And so dey walks into dat room, opposite 
to dis.” 

“Katie, I do not wish to hear any more of this stuff. You 
forget yourself, surely ! ” said Lady Vincent, suddenly waking 
to the consciousness that she was compromising her dignity in 
listening to the tale-bearing of a servant, even so old and tried 
as Katie was. 

“Very well. Miss Claudia, honey, you knows best; but take 
one piece of advice from de best friend you’s got on dis side 
o’ de big water. You ’void dat ’oman. Oh, Miss Claudia, 
chile! wouldn’t you keep out’n de way of anybody as had de 
smallpox or any other deadly plague ? Tell me dat 1 ” 

“ Of course I would.” 

“ Oh, Miss Claudia, honey, listen to me, den ! Here is worser 
plagues dan de smallpox; more ’fectious and more fatal, too. 
Moral plagues! De fust plague. Miss Claudia, can only dis- 
figur’ de face and kill de body; but de las’ plague can disfigur’ 
de heart and kill de soul. Miss Claudia, ’void dat ’oman! 
She ’ll ’feet you vdth the moral plague as is deadly to de heart 
and soul,” said the old woman, with a manner of deep solemnity. 

Claudia was moved. She shook as she answered : 

“ Katie, you mean well ; but let us talk no more of this to- 
night. And whatever your thoughts may be of this evil woman, 
I must beg that you will not utter them to any one of the other 
servants.” 


IN THE traitor’s TOILS. 123 

won^t, Miss Claudia. I won’t speak of her to nobody 
but you.” 

“ Nor to me, unless I ask you. And now, Katie, bring me my 
dressing gown and help me to disrobe. I am tired to death.” 

“And no wonder, honey,” said the old woman, as she went 
to obey. 

When she had arranged her young mistress at ease in dress- 
ing gown and slippers, in the resting chair, she would still 
have lingered near her, tendering little offices of affection, but 
Claudia, wishing to be alone, dismissed her. 

Lady Vincent had need of solitude for reflection. 

As soon as old Katie had left her alone she clasped her hands 
and fell back in her chair, exclaiming: “What shall I do? 
Oh! what shall I do?” 

She tried to think ; but in the whirl of her emotions, thought 
was very difficult, almost impossible. She felt that she had 
been deceived and betrayed; and that her situation was critical 
and perilous in the extreme. What should she do? to whom 
should she appeal ? how should she escape ? where should she go ? 

Should she now “ beard the lion in his den ” ; charge Lord 
Vincent with his perfldy, duplicity, treachery, and meditated 
crime; demand the instantaneous dismissal of Faustina; and 
insist upon an immediate introduction to his family as the only 
means of safety to herself? Where would be the good of that? 
She, a “ stranger in a strange land,” an inmate of a remote 
coast fortress, was absolutely in Lord Vincent’s power. He 
would deride her demands and defy her wrath. 

Should she openly attempt to leave the castle and return to 
her native country and her friends? Again, what would be 
the good of such an attempt? Her departure, she felt sure, 
would never be permitted. 

Should she try to make her escape secretly? That would be 
difficult or impossible. The castle stood upon the extreme 
point of its high promontory, overlooking the sea; it was re- 
mote from any other dwelling; the roads leading from it were 
for miles impassable to foot passengers. And besides all this, 
Claudia was unwilling to take such a very undignified course. 

In fact, she was unwilling to abandon her position at all — 
painful and dangerous as it was; having purchased it at a high 
price she felt like retaining and defending it. 

What then should she do ? The answer came like an inspira- 
tion. Write to her father to come over immediately 


124 self-kaised; or, from the defths. 

to her aid. And get him to bring about her introduction 
to the Earl of Hurstmonceux’s family and her recognition by 
their circle. This course, she thought, would secure her per- 
sonal safety and her social position, if not her domestic happi- 
ness; for the latter she had never dared to hope. 

And while waiting for her father’s arrival, she would be 
wise as serpents,” if not ‘‘ hai-mless as doves.” She would 
meet Lord Vincent on his own grounds and fight him with 
his own weapons; she would beat duplicity with duplicity. 

But first to write the letter to her father and dispatch it 
secretly by the first mail. She arose and rang the bell. 

Katie answered it. 

“ Unpack my little writing desk and place it on this stand 
beside me.” 

Katie did as she was ordered. 

Kow lock the door and wait here until I .write a letter.” 

Katie obeyed and then seated herself on a footstool near her 
lady’s feet. 

Claudia opened her writing desk; but paused long, pen in 
hand, reflecting how she had better write this letter. 

If she should tell her father at once of all the horror of her 
position the sudden news might throw him into a fit of apoplexy 
and kill him instantly. 

And on the other hand, if she were to conceal all this and 
merely write him a pressing invitation to come over immedi- 
ately, he might take his time over it. 

Speed Claudia felt to be of the utmost importance to her 
cause. So, after due reflection, she dipped her pen in ink, and 
commenced as follows: 

Castle Cragg, near Banff, Buchan, Scotland. 

^^My D#arest Father: We are all in good health; therefore 
do not be alarmed, even though I earnestly implore you to drop 
everything that you may have in hand, and come over to me 
immediately, by the very first steamer that sails after your 
receipt of this letter. Father, you will comply with my entreaty 
when I inform you that I have been deceived and betrayed 
by him who swore to protect and cherish me. My life and 
honor are both imperiled. I will undertake to guard both for 
a month, until you come. But come at once to your wronged, 
though Loving child. 


“ Claudia.” 


IN THE TRAITOk’s TOILS. 125 

She sealed the letter very carefully, directed it, and gave 
it into the hands of her old servant, saying: 

“Katie, listen to every word I say, and obey to the very 
letter. Take this downstairs and give it to Jim privately. Let 
no one see, or hear, or even suspect what you are doing. Tell 
him to steal out carefully from the castle and walk to the 
nearest roadside inn, and hire a horse and ride to Banff, and 
mail this letter there; and then come back and report progress 
to you. Kow, Katie, do you understand what you have got 
to do ? ” 

“Yes, Miss Claudia.” 

“ Repeat it to me, then.” 

Katie rehearsed her instructions. 

“ That will do. Hurry now and obey them.” 

When Katie had gone Lady Vincent closed her writing desk, 
threw herself back in her chair, covered her face with her hands, 
and wept. 

She was startled by the entrance of Lord Vincent. 

She hastily dried her eyes, and shifted her position so that 
her back was to the light and her face in deep shadow. 

“You are sitting up late, my lady. I should think you 
would be tired after your long journey,” he said, as he took 
another armchair and seated himself opposite to her. 

“ I was just thinking of retiring,” answered Claudia, putting 
severe constraint upon herself. 

“ But since I find you sitting up, if it will not fatigue you too 
much, I will answer some questions* you asked me concerning 
Mrs. Dugald,” said his lordship. 

“Yes?” said Claudia, scarcely able to breathe the single 
syllable. 

“ Yes. You inquired of me who she was. I told you she was 
my sister. You did not believe me; but you should have done 
so, for I told you the truth. She is my sister.” 

Ssarcely able to restrain her indignation at this impudent 
falsehood, and fearful of trusting the sound of her own voice, 
Claudia answered in a low tone: 

“I supposed that you were jesting with my curiosity. I 
knew, of course, that your sisters were titled ladies. Mrs. Du- 
gald as an untitled one, therefore she could not be your sister; 
nor could she be your sister-in-law, since you are an only son.” 

“You are mistaken in both your premises: Mrs. Dugald is 
my sister-in-law, and is a titled lady, since she is the widow of 


126 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

my younger Half-brother, the Honorable Kenneth Dugald,” 
said the viscount triumphantly. 

I never heard that your deceased brother had been married,’' 
answered Claudia coolly. 

‘^No? Why, bless you, yes! About four years ago he mar- 
ried the beauty over whom all Paris was going raving mad. 
She was the prima donna of the Italian opera in Paris. But 
the marriage was not pleasing to the earl, who is severely 
afflicted with the prejudices of his rank. He immediately dis- 
owned his son, the Honorable Kenneth, never speaking to him 
again during his, Kenneth’s, life. And more than that, he car- 
ried his resentment beyond the grave; for even after Kenneth 
died of a fever contracted in the Crimea, and his widow was 
left unprovided for, and with the pleasant alternative of starv- 
ing to death or dragging the noble name of Dugald before the 
footlights of the stage, my father politely informed her that she 
was at liberty to go on the stage or to go to — ^hem'I It was then 
that I offered La Faustina an asylum in my house, which she 
accepted. And I hope. Lady Vincent, that you will be good 
enough to make her welcome,” said Lord Vincent. 

Claudia could not reply; the anger, scorn, and disgust that 
filled her bosom fairly choked her voice. 

After a struggle with herself, she managed to articulate: 

How does the earl like your protection of this woman ? ” 

“I wish you would not use that word ‘protection,’ Claudia. 
It is an equivocal one.” 

“ Then it is the better suited to describe the relation, which 
is certainly most equivocal ! ” Claudia, in spite of all her reso- 
lutions, could not for the life of her help replying. 

“ It is false ! And I will not permit you to say it. The posi- 
tion of Mrs. Dugald is not an equivocal one. It is clearly de- 
fined. She is my brother’s widow. When I invited her to take 
up her residence in this castle I took care to leave it before she 
arrived. And I never returned to it until to-day, when I 
brought you with me. Your presence here, of course, renders 
the residence of my brother’s widow beneath my roof alto- 
gether proper.” 

Claudia had much to do to control her feelings, as she 
said : 

“We will waive the question of propriety, which, of course, 
is settled by my presence in the house; but you have not yet 
told me how the earl likes this arrangement.” 


IN THE TRAITOE’s TOILS. 


127 

have not seen the earl since the arrangement has been 
made. I fancy he will like it well, since it relieves him of the 
burden of having her to support, and saves him from the 
mortification of seeing her return to the boards.” 

“ Good-night, my lord ! ” said Claudia abruptly, rising and 
retiring to her bedroom, for she felt that she could not remain 
another moment in Lord Vincent’s presence, without con- 
fronting him with her perfect knowledge of his meditated vil- 
lainy, and thus losing her only chance of defeating it. 

Claudia retired to bed, but, though worn out with fatigue, 
she could not sleep. This, then, was her coming home! She 
had sold her birthright, and got not even the “ mess of pottage,” 
but the cup of poison. 

She lay tossing about with fevered veins and throbbing tem- 
ples until morning, when, at last, she sunk into a sleep of ex- 
haustion. 

She awoke with a prostrating, nervous headache. She at- 
tempted to rise, but fell helplessly back upon the pillow. Then 
she reached forth her hand and rang the bell that hung at the 
side of her bedf. 

Katie answered it. 

“Did Jim succeed in mailing my letter?” was her first 
question. 

“Yes, my ladyship; hut he had to wait ever so long before 
the tide ebbed to let him cross over to the shore; but he got 
there all right, and in time to save the mail; but he didn’t get 
hack here until this morning.” 

“ Did anyone find out his going ? ” 

“ Not a living soul, as I knows of. Miss Claudia. 

“ Thank Heaven! ” said Lady Vincent, with a deep sigh. 

Old Katie busied herself with bringing her mistress’ stock- 
ings, soft slippers, and dressing gown to the bedside ; but Clau- 
dia said: 

“ Put them away again, Katie ; I shall not rise to-day. I 
have one of my very bad, nervous headaches. You may bring 
me a cup of strong coffee.” 

“ Ah, honey, no wonder ! I go bring it directly,” said Katie, 
hurrying away with affectionate eagerness to bring the fra- 
grant restorative. 

A few minutes afterwards Katie entered with the tray, fol- 
lowed by the housekeeper, Mrs. Murdock, who came with anx- 
ious inquiries as to Lady Vincent’s health. 


128 self-kaised; oe, from the depths. 

have a very bad, nervous hearache, which is not sur- 
prising, after all my fatigue,” replied Claudia. 

“Nay, indeed, and it is not, me leddy; you should lie quietly 
in bed to-day, and to-morrow you will be well,” said the dame. 

“Yes.” 

“And, me leddy, Mrs. Dugald bid me give her compliments 
to your leddyship, and ask if she should come and sit with you.” 

“ I cannot receive Mrs, Dugald,” said Claudia coldly. 

“Ah, then I will say your leddyship is na weel enough to 
receive company ? ” 

“ Say what you please. I cannot receive Mrs. Dugald.” 

Old Katie had gone into the dressing room to stir the fire, 
which was to warm the whole suite. Taking advantage of 
her absence the housekeeper sat down beside Lady Vincentes 
bed, and, while pouring out her coffee, stooped and nodded and 
whispered : 

“Aye! and sma’ blame to your leddyship, gin ye never re- 
ceive the likes of her.” 

“What do you know of Mrs. Dugald that you should say 
so?” was Claudia’s cold question. For alas, poor lady, she 
was in sad straits! She had need to glean knowledge of her 
dangerous enemy from every possible quarter; but — she felt 
that she must do so without committing herself, or compro- 
mising her dignity. 

“Nay, I ken naething! I dinna like the quean! that’s all!” 
said the woman, growing all at once reserved. 

“ She is the widow of the late Honorable Kenneth Dugald ? ” 
said Claudia, in a tone that might be received either as a 
statement or a question. 

“ Sae it is said. I ken naething anent it,” replied the dame, 
t-fiking up the tray of empty cups. “Will your leddyship ha’ 
anything more ? ” 

“No, thank you, Mrs. Murdock,” replied Claudia, in a very 
sweet tone, for she felt that in her pride of place she had re- 
pulsed the offered confidence of an honest old creature who 
might have been of great use to her. 

“Will I sit wi’ your leddyship?” inquired the dame. 

“No, I am much obliged to you. I must rest now; but I 
should be glad if you would come to me later in the day.” 

“Yes, me leddy,” answered the dame, somewhat mollified, as 
she courtesied and withdrew from the room, leaving Lady Vin- 
cent to the care of her own faithful servant. 


Claudia’s troubles and perils. 


129 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Claudia’s troubles and perils. 

Like love in a worldly breast 
Alone in my lady’s chamber 
The lamp burns low, suppressed 
’Mid satins of broidered amber 
Where she lies, sore distressed. 

My lady here alone 
May think till her heart is broken 
Of the love that is dead and done, 

Of the day that with no token 
For evei'more hath gone. 

—Owen Meredith. 

All day long Claudia lay abed within her darkened chamber. 
It was a scene of magnificence, luxury, and repose. Scarcely 
a ray of light stole through the folds of the golden-brown 
curtains of window and bed. No sound broke the stillness of 
the air, except the dull, monotonous thunder of the sea upon 
the rocks below. This at length soothed her nervous excite- 
ment and lulled her to repose. 

She slept until the evening, and awoke comparatively free 
from pain. 

Her first thought on waking was of the housekeeper, and 
her first feeling was the desire to see the old creature, and if 
possible make a friend of her. 

Ah! hut it was bitterly galling to Lady Vincent’s pride to 
be obliged to stoop to the degradation of questioning a ser- 
vant concerning the domestic affairs of her own husband’s 
family! But she felt that her life and honor were imperiled, 
and that she must use such means for her safety as circum- 
stances offered. Mrs. Murdock impressed her as being an hon- 
est, truthful, and trustworthy woman. And Claudia wished 
to discover, by what should seem casual conversation with her, 
how much or how little truth there might be in Lord Vincent’s 
representations of Mrs. Dugald’s position in the family. 

She put out her hand and rang the bell that hung just within 
her reach. 

Katie answered it. 

“Tell the housekeeper I would like to see her now,” said 
Lady Vincent. 


130 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

Katie tossed her head and went out. Katie was already jeal- 
ous of the housekeeper. 

In a few minutes Mrs. Murdock entered. 

“I hope your leddyship is better,” she said, courtesying. 

‘‘I am better; do not stand; sit down on that chair beside 
me,” said Claudia kindly. 

The dame sank slowly into the offered seat and said: “Will 
your leddyship please to take onything ? ” 

“Nothing, just yet.” 

“Can I do naething for you, me leddy?” 

“Yes, thank you; you can take that flacon of carmelite water 
on the stand beside you and bathe my forehead and temples 
while you sit there,” said Claudia slowly and hesitatingly; 
for she was thinking how best to open the subject that occupied 
her mind. At length, while the dame was carefully bathing her 
head, Claudia said, with assumed carelessness: 

“Mrs. Dugald is very beautiful.” 

“ Ou, aye, me leddy, she’s weel eneugh to look upon, if that 
was a’,” replied the housekeeper dryly. 

“ Has she been here long ? ” 

“Ever sin’ Mr. Kenneth died, me leddy.” 

“ Mr. Kenneth ? ” echoed Claudia, in an interrogative tone ; 
for she remembered well that Kenneth was the name of Lord 
Vincent’s younger brother, said to have been married to La 
Faustina; but she wished to hear more without, however, com- 
promising herself by asking direct questions. 

“ Mr. Kenneth ? ” she repeated, looking into the housekeeper’s 
face. 

“ Ou, aye, your leddyship ; just the Honorable Kenneth Du- 
gald, puir lad ! ” 

“ Why do you say poor lad ? ” 

“ I beg your leddyship’s pardon. I mean just naething. It’s 
on’y just a way I ha’.” 

Claudia reflected a moment; and then, though it went sorely 
against her pride so to speak to a dependent, she said: 

“Mrs. Murdock, I am a very young and inexperienced 
woman ; I have been motherless from my infancy ; I am ‘ a 
stranger in a strange land ’ ; unacquainted even with the mem- 
bers of my husband’s family; my meeting with Mrs. Dugald 
here was unexpected. Lord Vincent never having mentioned her 
existence to me; my first impression of her was very unfavor- 
able; some words you dropped deepened that impression; and 


Claudia’s troubles and perils. 131 

now I feel that there are circumstances with which I ought 
to be made acquainted and with which you can acquaint me; 
will you do so?” 

“ Aye, me leddy, and with the freer conscience that I ken 
weel his lairdship the airl would approve. Ye ken, me Ifiddy, 
there were but twa brithers; Laird Vincent and the Honorable 
Kenneth Dugald ? ” 

“ I am aware of that.” 

^^Aweel they were in Paris tegither and fell in somewhere 
with this quean.” 

“This— what?” 

“ This player-bodie, me leddy ; who afterwards put the glam- 
our over Mr. Kenneth’s eyes to make her Mrs. Dugald.” 

“ Oh,” said Claudia to herself, “ then that is true ; the woman 
really is the widow of Kenneth Dugald and the sister-in-law 
of Lord Vincent. Go on, Mrs. Murdock; I am listening.” 

“ Aweel, she had the art, me leddy, to make him marry her. 
A burning shame it was, me leddy, in one of his noble name, 
but he did it. He was a minor, ye ken, being but twenty years 
of age, and sae he could na be lawfu’ married in France nor 
in England, and sae he brought his player-woman to auld 
Scotland and made her his wife — woe worth the day ! ” 

“ This must have been a terrible mortification to the earl ? ” 

“Ye may weel say that, me leddy. His lairdship never saw 
or spoke to Mr. Kenneth afterwards. But he purchased him a 
commission in a regiment that was just about to embark for 
the Crimea, where the young gentleman went, taking his wife 
with him, and where he died of the fever, leaving his widow 
to find her way back as she would.” 

“ Poor young man ! ” 

“ Aye, puir laddie ! nae doubt regret helped the fever to kill 
him. Aweel, his widow come her ways back to Scotland, as I 
had the honor to tell your leddyship, and made her appeal to 
his lairdship the airl for dower. But your leddyship may weel 
ken that me laird would ha’e naething to say till her. Will I 
bathe your leddyship’s head ony langer ? ” 

“ Yes, please, and go on with what you are telling me.” 

“ Aweel, me leddy, failing to come over the airl, she began to 
cast her spells over his lairdship my Laird Vincent. This gave 
the airl great oneasiness, for ye ken he feared this woman that 
she should bewitch the ane as she had the ither, e’en to the 
length of making him marry her. And to say naething of ony 


132 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

ither reason against siccan a marriage, we think it wrang for 
ony mon to wed wi’ his brother’s widow. Sae the airl took 
short measures wi’ his son, Laird Vincent, and stopped his 
siller; but got him an appointment to carry out papers to the 
minister, away yonder in the States. Sae the young laird sent 
his sister-in-law, as he calls her, up here to bide her lane, tell- 
ing his feyther, the airl, he could na’ turn his brither’s widow 
out of doors. Which, ye ken, me leddy, sounded weel eneugh. 
Sae hither she cam’. And an unco’ sair heart she’s gi’e us 
a’ sin’ ever she cam’ ! ” 

Has she been here ever since ? ” 

^‘Nay, me leddy; she left hame last August and did na come 
back till a month.” 

Claudia was satisfied. This was the same woman that she had 
seen on the platform of the railway station at Jersey City. 

^^Does the earl know of this lady’s continued residence be- 
neath his roof ? ” 

“ I dinna ken, me leddy. But I’m just thinking his lairdship 
will na care onything about it ony langer, sin’ his son is weel 
married to yoursel’, me leddy.” 

“ The earl liked his son’s marriage, then ? ” inquired Claudia, 
for upon this point she felt anxious for authentic information. 

‘‘Aye, did he! didna it keep the lad out o’ danger o’ the 
wiles o’ siccan a quean as yon? And no-w, will I bring your 
leddyship some refreshment ? ” 

“Yes,” said Claudia, “you may bring me a bowl of your 
oatmeal porridge. I should like to taste your national food.” 

The housekeeper left the room and Claudia fell into thought. 
Two important facts she had gained by descending from her 
dignity to gossip with an upper servant, namely: That La 
Faustina was really the widow of Kenneth Dugald, and that the 
Earl of Hurstmonceux was well pleased with his son’s marriage 
to herself, and would therefore be likely to be her partisan in 
any trouble she might have on account of Mrs. Dugald. She 
resolved, therefore, to be very wary in her conduct until the 
arrival of her father, and then to request an introduction to 
the earl’s family. Bitterly galling as it would be to her pride, 
she even determined to meet Mrs. Dugald in the drawing room 
and at the table without demur ; since she could treat her as the 
widow of the Honorable Kenneth Dugald without openly com- 
promising her own dignity. Finally she concluded to meet 
J^rd Vincent’s treacherous courtesy with assumed civility. 


i33 


Claudia’s troubles and perils. 

On the third day Lady Vincent felt well enough to join the 
viscount and Mrs. Dugald at breakfast. Pursuant to her reso- 
lution she received their congratulations with smiles, and 
answered their inquiries as to her health with thanks. 

It was a foggy, misty, drizzly day the precursor of a long 
spell of dark and gloomy weather, that Claudia at length grew 
to fear would never come to an end. 

During this time the monotony of Claudia’s life at the castle 
was really dreadful. 

And this was something like it: She would wake about 
seven o’clock, but knowing that it was hours too early to rise 
in that house, she would lie and think until she was ready to 
go mad. At nine o’clock she would ring for her maid, Sally, 
and spend an hour in dawdling over her toilet. At ten she 
would go down to breakfast — a miserable, uncomfortable meal 
of hollow civility or sullen silence. After breakfast she would 
go into the library and hunt among the old, musty, worm-eaten 
hooks for something readable, but without success. 

Then, ready to kill herself from weariness of life, she would 
wrap up in cloak and hood and climb the turret stairs and go 
out upon the ramparts of the castle and walk up and down 
with the drizzling mist above and around her and the thunder- 
ing sea beneath her — up and down — hour after hour — ^up and 
down — lashing herself into such excitement that she would be 
tempted to throw herself from the battlements, to be crushed 
to death by the rocks or swallowed up by the waves below. 

At length, as fearing to trust herself with this temptation, 
she would descend into the castle again, and go to her own 
rooms, and try to interest herself in a little needle-work, a little 
writing, a talk with Katie or with Mrs. Murdock. 

At last the creeping hours would bring luncheon, when the 
same inharmonious party would assemble around the same 
ungenial table, and eat and drink without enjoyment or grati- 
tude. 

After that she would lie down and try to sleep, and then 
write a letter home, do a little embroidery, yawn, weep, wish 
herself dead, and wonder how soon she would hear from her 
father. 

The dragging hours would at length draw on the late dinner, 
when she would make an elaborate toilet, just for pastime, and 
go to dinner, which always seemed like a funeral feast. Here 
Claudia formed the habit of drinking much more wine than 


134 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

was good for her: and she did it to blunt her sensibility; to 
obtund the sharpness of her heartache; to give her sleep. 

After dinner they would go into the drawing room, where 
coffee would be served. And after that, if Mrs. Dugald were 
in the humor, there would be music. And then the party would 
disperse. Claudia would go into her own room and pass a long, 
lonely, wretched evening, sometimes speculating on life, death, 
and immortality, and wondering whether, in the event of her 
deciding to walk out of this world with which she was so much 
dissatisfied, into the other of which she knew nothing, she 
would be any better off. 

At eleven o’clock she always rang for wine and biscuits, and 
drank enough to make her sleep. Then she would go to bed, 
sink into a heavy, feverish sleep, that would last until the morn- 
ing, when she would awake with a headache, as well as a heart- 
ache, to pass just such a day as the preceding one. 

Such were Claudia’s days and nights. Ah! how different to 
those she had pictured when she sold herself and her fortune 
for rank and title. 

Her days were all so much alike that they could only be 
distinguished by the change in her dinner dress, and the differ- 
ence in the bill of fare. 

“ It is maize-colored moire antique and mutton one day and 
violet-colored velvet and veal another ; that is all ! ” wrote Clau- 
dia in one of her letters home. 

That was all! The same leaden sky overhung the land and 
sea; the same fine, penetrating mist drizzled slowly down and 
sifted like snow into everything; the same stupid routine of 
sleeping, walking, dressing, eating, drinking, undressing, and 
sleeping again, occupied the household. 

Ho visitors ever came to the house, and of course Claudia 
went nowhere. She was unspeakably miserable, and would have 
wished for death, had she not been a firm believer in future 
retribution. 

“ Misery loves company,” it is said. There was one inmate 
in this unblessed house who seemed quite as miserable as Clau- 
dia herself. This was one of the housemaids ; the one who had 
charge of Claudia’s own rooms. Lady Vincent had noticed 
this poor girl, and had observed that she was pale, thin, sad, 
always with red eyes, and often in tears. Once she inquired 
kindly : 

‘‘ What is the matter with you, Ailsie? ” 


CLAUDIA S TROUBLES AND PERILS. 


135 


‘‘ It’s just naething, me leddy,” was the weeping girl’s answer. 

But I am sure it is something. Can you not tell me ? 
What is it troubles you?” 

“Just naething, me leddy,” was still the answer. 

“ Are you away from all your friends? Are you homesick?” 

“ I ha’e naebody belanging to me, me leddy.” 

“ You are an orphan? ” 

“ Aye, me leddy.” 

“ Then you must really tell me what is the matter with you, 
my poor child; I will help you if I can.” 

“Indeed I canna tell you, my leddy. Your leddyship maun 
please to forgi’e me, and not mind me greeting. It’s just nae- 
thing; it’s ony a way I ha’e.” 

And this was all that Claudia could get out of this poor girl. 

Once she inquired of Mrs. Murdock : “ What ails Ailsie 

Dunbar? Her looks trouble me.” 

“Indeed, me leddy, I dinna ken. The lassie is greeting fra 
morning till night, and will na gie onybody ony satisfaction 
about it! But I will try to find out.” And that was all Lady 
Vincent could get out of the housekeeper. 

The month of November crept slowly by. And December 
came, darker, duller, drearier than its predecessor. And now 
anxiety was added to Claudia’s other troubles. She had not 
heard from her father. 

The monotony, deepened by suspense, grew horrible. She 
wished for an earthquake, or an inundation — anything to 
break the dreadful spell that bound her, to burst the tomb of 
her buried life and let in air and light. 

Sometimes she overheard the precious pair of friends who 
shared her home murmuring their sinful nonsense together; 
and she was disgusted. 

And sometimes she heard them in angry and jealous alterca- 
tion; and she gi>ew insane, and wished from the bottom of her 
heart that one might murder the other, if it were only to break 
the horrible monotony of the castle life, by bringing into it 
the rabble rout of inspectors, constables, coroners, and juries. 
At length there came a day when that frenzied wish was 
gratified. 


136 


self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 


CHAPTER XX. 

A LINK IN CLAUDIA’S FATE- 

For who knew, she thought, what the amazement, 

The irruption of clatter and blaze meant. 

And if, in this minute of wonder, 

No outlet ’mid lightning and thunder, 

Lay broad and her shackles all shivered, 

The captive at length was delivered? 

— Robert Browning, 

Claudia had awakened one morning with one of those ner- 
vous headaches that were becoming habitual to her. She had 
taken a narcotic sedative and gone to sleep again, and slept 
throughout the day. 

It was night when she awoke again, and became immediately 
conscious of am unusual commotion in the castle — a commotion 
that reached her ears, even over the thick drugget with which 
the stairs and halls were covered, and through the strong doors 
and heavy hangings with which her chamber was protected. 
Whether it was this disturbance that had broken her rest, she 
did not really know. She listened intently. There was a swift 
and heavy running to and fro, and a confusion of tongues, giv- 
ing voices in mingled tones of fear, grief, rage, consternation, 
expostulation, and every key of passionate emotion and excite- 
ment. 

Lady Vincent reached forth her hand and rang the bell, and 
then listened, but no one answered it. She rang again, with 
no better success. After waiting some little time she rang a 
violent peal, that presently brought the housekeeper hurrying 
into the room, pale as death, and nearly out of breath. 

^^Mrs. Murdock, I have rung three times. I have never be- 
fore had occasion to ring twice for attendance,” said Lady Vin- 
cent, in a displeased tone. 

“ Ou, me leddy, ye will e’en forgi’e me this ance, when ye 
come to hear the cause,” panted the housekeeper. 

What has happened ? ” demanded Claudia. 

Ou, me leddy ! sic an’ awfu’ event.” 

*‘What is it, then?” 

Just murther — ^no less ! ” 

Murder I ” exclaimed Claudia, starting up and gazing at 
the speaker with horror-distended eyes. 


A LINK IN Claudia’s fate. 137 

Just murther ! ” gasped the housekeeper, sinking down in 
the armchair beside her lady’s bed, because in truth her limbs 
gave way beneath her. 

^^Who? what? For Heaven’s sake, speak!” 

The puir bit lassie ” began the dame ; but her voice 

failed, and she covered her face with her apron and began to 
howl. 

Claudia gazed at her in consternation and horror for a 
minute, and then again demanded: 

^^What lassie? Who is murdered? For the Lord’s sake 
try to answer me ! ” 

Puir Ailsie ! puir wee bit lassie ! ” wailed the woman. 

Ailsie ! what has happened to her ? ” demanded Lady Vin- 
cent, bewildered with panic. 

She’s found murthered ! ” howled the housekeeper. 

“ Ailsie ! Heaven of heavens, no ! ” cried Claudia, wound up 
to a pitch of frenzied excitement. 

Aye is she ; found lying outside the castle wall, wi’ her puir 
throat cut fra ear to ear I ” shrieked the dame, covering up her 
face to smother the cries she could not suppress. 

Mercy of Heaven, how horrible I ” exclaimed Lady Vincent, 
throwing her hands up to her face, and falling back on her pil- 
low. 

“ Puir Aflsie ! puir, bonnie lassie 1 ” howled the dame, rocking 
her body to and fro. 

Who did it ? ” gasped Claudia, under her breath. 

“ Ah ! that’s what we canna come at ; naebody kens.” 

“ I cannot rest here any longer. King the bell, Mrs. Mur- 
dock, and hand me my dressing gown. I must get up and go 
downstairs. Good Heavens! a poor, innocent girl murdered in 
this house, and her murderer allowed to escape ! ” exclaimed 
Claudia, throwing the bed-clothes off her and rising in irre- 
pressible excitement. 

“ Ah, me leddy, I fear, I greatly fear, she was no that inno- 
cent as your leddyship thinks, puir bairn! Hae that I would 
say onything about it, only it’s weel kenned noo. Puir Ailsie! 
she lost her innocence before she lost her life, me leddy. And 
I greatly misdoubt, he that reft her of the ane reft her of the 
ither ! ” sobbed the dame, as she assisted Claudia to put on her 
crimson silk dressing gown. 

“How give me a shawl; I must go below.” 

“Hay, nay, me leddy, dinna gang! It’s awfu’ wark doon 


138 SELF- raised; ck, from the depths. 

there. They’ve brought her in, and laid her on the ha’ table, 
and a’ the constables and laborers are there, forbye the servants. 
It’s nae place for you, me leddy. Your leddyship could na 
stand it.” 

“ Anyone who has stood six weeks of the ordinary life in 
this house can stand anything else under the sun ! ” exclaimed 
Claudia, wrapping herself in the large India shawl that was 
handed her, and hurrying downstairs. 

She was met by old Katie, who was on her way to answer the 
bell that had been rung for her, and who, as soon as she saw her 
mistress, raised both her hands in deprecation, and in her terror 
began to speak as if Lady Vincent were still a child and she was 
still her nurse and keeper: 

Now, Miss Claudia, honey, you jes’ go right straight back 
ag’in! Dis aint no place for sich as you, chile. You mustn’t 
go down dar and look at dat gashly objeck, honey. ’Cause no 
tollin’ what de quoncequinces mightn’t be. Now mind what 
your ole Aunt Katie say to you, honey, and turn back like a 
good chile.” 

While old Katie was coaxing her Lady Vincent was looking 
over the balustrade down into the hall below, which was filled to 
suffocation with a motley crowd, who were pressing around some 
object extended upon the table, and which Claudia could only 
make out in the obscurity by the gleam of the white cloth with 
which it was covered. 

Without stopping to answer old Katie, she pushed her aside 
and hurried below. 

The crowd had done with loud talking and an awe-struck 
silence prevailed, broken only now and then by a half -suppressed 
murmur of fear or horror. 

Forgetting her fastidiousness for once, Lady Vincent pushed, 
her way through this crowd of unwashed ” workmen, whose 
greasy, dusty, and begrimed clothes soiled her bright, rich rai- 
ment as she passed, and among whom the mingled fumes of 
tobacco, whisky, garlic, and coal-smoke formed “the rankest 
compound of villainous smells that ever offended nostrils.” 

Claudia did not mind all this. She pressed on, and they gave 
way for her a little as she approached the table. Three con- 
stables stood around it to guard the dead body from the touch 
of meddlesome hands. On seeing Lady Vincent with the air of 
one having authority, the constable that guarded the head of the 
table guessed at her rank, and officiously turned down the white 


A LINK IN Claudia’s fate. 


139 


sheet that covered the dead body, and revealed the horrible ob- 
ject beneath — the ghastly face fallen back, with its* chin dropped, 
and its mouth and eyes wide open and rigid in death; and the 
gaping red wound across the throat cut so deep that it nearly 
severed the head from the body. With a suppressed shriek 
Claudia clapped her hands to her face to shut out the awful 

Bight. 

At the same moment she felt her arm grasped by a firm 
hand, and her name called in a stern voice: ‘‘Lady Vincent, 
why are you here ? Eetire at once to your chamber.” 

Claudia, too much overcome wdth horror to dispute the point, 
suffered the viscount to draw her out of the crowd to the foot 
of the stairs. Here she recovered herself sufficiently to inquire : 

“ What has been done, my lord ? What steps have been taken 
towards the discovery and arrest of this poo^' •''■irrs murderer ? ” 

“ All that is possible has been done, or is doing. The coroner- 
has been summoned; the inspector has been sent for; a tele- 
gram has been dispatched to Scotland Yard in London for an 
experienced detective. Best easy. Lady Vincent. Here, Mis- 
tress Gorilla! Attend your lady to her apartment.” 

This last order was addressed to Katie, who was still linger- 
ing on the stairs, and who was glad to receive this charge from 
liOrd Vincent. 

“ Come along. Miss Claudia, honey,” she said, as soon as the 
viscount had left them; “come along. We can’t do no good, 
not by staying here no longer. My lordship was right dar. 
Dough why he do keep on a-calling of me Mrs. Gorilla is 
more’n I can ’count for. Hot dat I objects to de name; ’cause 
I do like the name. I think’s it a perty name, sweet 
perty name, so soft and musicky ; only you see, chile,, 
it aint mine; and I can’t think what could put it in my lord- 
ship’s head to think it was.” 

Lady Vincent paid no attention to the innocent twaddle of 
poor old Katie, though at a less horrible moment it might 
have served to amuse her. She hurried as fast as her agitation 
would permit her from the scene of the dreadful tragedy, un- 
conscious how closely this poor murdered girl’s fate would be 
connected with her own future destiny. She gained the shelter 
of her own apartments and shut herself up there, while the in- 
vestigations into the murder proceeded. 

It is not necessary for us to go deeply into the revolting de- 
tails of the events that followed. The coroner arrived the same 


140 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

evening, impaneled his jury and commenced the inquest. Soon 
after the inspector came from Banff. And the next morning a 
skillful detective arrived from London. And the investigation 
commenced in earnest. Many witnesses were examined; ex- 
tensive searches were made, and all measures taken to find out 
some clew to the murderer, but in vain. The police held pos- 
session of the premises for nearly a week, and the coroner’s jury 
sat day after day; but all to no purpose, as far as the discovery 
of the perpetrator of the crime was concerned. This seemed 
one of the obstinate murders that, in spite of the old proverb 
to the contrary, will not “ out.” 

On Saturday night the baffled coroner’s jury returned their 
unsatisfactory verdict : “ The deceased, Ailsie Dunbar, came 

to her death by a wound inflicted in her throat with a razor 
held in the hands of some person unknown to the jury.” 

And the house was rid of coroner, jury, inspector, detective, 
country constables and all; and the poor girl’s body was per- 
mitted to be laid in the earth; and the household breathed 
freely again. 

The same evening Lord Vincent, being alone in his dressing 
room, rang his bell ; and his valet as usual answered it. 

“ Come in here, Frisbie. Shut the door after you, and stand 
before me,” said his lordship. 

^‘Yes, my lord,” answered the servant, securing the door 
and standing before his master. 

Lord Vincent sat with his back to the window and his face 
in the shadow, while the light from the window fell full on the 
face of the valet, who stood before him. This was a position 
Lord Vincent always managed to secure, when he wished to 
read the countenance of his interlocutor, without exposing his 
own. 

^‘Well, Frisbie, they are gone,” said his lordship, looking 
wistfully into the face of his servant. 

“ Yes, my lord,” replied the latter, looking down. 

“ And — ^without discovering the murderer of Ailsie Dunbar,” 
he continued, in a meaning voice. 

Yes, my lord,” replied the valet, with the slightest possible 
quaver in his tone. 

That must be a very great relief to your feelings, Frisbie,” 
said the viscount. 

— ^have not the honor to understand your lordship,” fal- 
tered Frisbie, changing color. 


A LINK IN Claudia’s fate. 141 

** Hav6il’t you ? Why, that is strange ! My meaning is clear 
enough. I say it must be a very great relief to your feel- 
ings, Frisbie, to have the inquest so well over, and all the law- 
officers out of the house. You must have endured agonies of 
terror while they were here. I know I should in your place. 
Why, I expected every day that you would bolt, though that 
would have been the worst thing you could possibly have done, 
too, for it would have been sure to direct suspicion towards 
you, and you would have been certain to be recaptured before 
you could have got out of England,” said Lord Vincent 
coolly. 

“I — I — ^my lord — I have not the honor — ^to — to — ^under ” 

began the man, but his teeth chattered so that he could not 
enunciate another syllable. 

“ Oh, yes ! you have the honor, if you consider it such. You 
understand me well enough. What is the use of attempting to 
deceive me? Frisbie, I was an eye-witness to the death of 
Ailsie Dunbar,” said his lordship emphatically, and fixing his 
eyes firmly upon the face of his valet. 

Down fell the wretch upon his knees, with his hands clasped, 
his face blanched, and his teeth chattering. 

“ Oh, my lord, mercy, mercy ! It was unpremeditated, in- 
deed it was ! it was an accident ! it was done in the heat of pas- 
sion ! and — and — she did it herself ! ” gasped the wretch, so be- 
side himself with fright that he did not clearly know what he 
was talking about. 

“Frisbie, stop lying. Did it herself, eh? I saw you do the 
deed. The razor was in your hands. She struggled and 
begged, poor creature, and cut her poor hands in her efforts 
to save her throat; but you completed your purpose effectually 
before I could appear and prevent you from murdering her. 
Then I kept your secret, since no good could have come of my 
telling it.” 

“ Mercy, mercy, my lord ! indeed it was unpremeditated ! It 
was done in the heat of passion. She had driven me mad with 
jealousy ! ” 

“ Bosh ! what do you suppose I care whether you committed 
the crime in hot blood or cold blood? whether it was the result 
of a momentary burst of frenzy or of a long premeditated and 
carefully arranged plan? It is enough for me to know that I 
saw you do the deed. You murdered that girl, and if the coro- 
ner’s jury had not been just about the stupidest lot of donkeys 


142 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

that ever undertook to sit on a case, you would be now in jail 
waiting your trial for murder before the next assizes.” 

Mercy, mercy, my lord ! I am in your power ! ” 

“Hold your tongue and get up off your knees and listen to 
me, you cowardly knave. Don’t you know that if I had wished 
to hang you I could have done so by lodging information 
against you? Nonsense! I don’t want to hang you. I think, 
with the Quaker, that hanging is the worst use you can put a 
man to. Now, I don’t want to put you to that use. I have 
other uses for you. Get up, you precious knave I ” 

“ Oh, my lord ! put me to any use your lordship wishes, and 
no matter what it is, I will serve you faithfully in it ! ” said the 
wretch, rising from his knees and standing in a cowed and 
deprecating manner before his master. 

“ It is perfectly clear to me, Frisbie, that you settled that girl 
to silence a troublesome claimant of whom you could not rid 
yourself in any other way.” 

“ Your lordship knows everything. It was so, my lord. She 
was all the time bothering me about broken promises and all 
that.” 

“And so you settled all her claims by one blow. Well, 
you have got rid of the woman that troubled you; and now I 
mean that you shall help me to get rid of one who troubles 
me.” 

“ In — in — in the same manner, my lord ? ” gasped the man. In 
an accession of deadly terror. 

“No, you insupportable fool! I am not a master butcher, to 
give you such an order as that. Noblemen are not cut-throats, 
you knave! You shall rid me of my troublesome woman in a 
safer way than that. And you shall do it as the price of my 
silence as to your own little affair.” 

“ I am your lordship’s obedient, humble servant. Your lord- 
ship will do what you please with me. I am absolutely and un- 
reservedly at your lordship’s disposal,” whined the criminal. 

“Well, I should think you were, when I hold one end of a 
rope of which the other end is around your neck. Come closer 
and stoop down until you bring your ear to a level with my 
lips, for I must speak low,” said his lordship. 

The man obeyed. 

And Lord Vincent confided to his confederate a plan against 
the peace and honor of his viscountess of so detestable and re- 
volting a nature that even this ruthless assassin shrunk in 


A LINK IN Claudia’s fate. 143 

loathing and disgust from the thought of becoming a partici- 
pator in it. But he was, as he had said, absolutely and unre- 
servedly at the disposal of Lord Vincent, who held one end of 
the rope of which the other was around his own neck, and so he 
ended in becoming the confederate and instrument of the 
viscount. 

When this was all arranged Lord Vincent dismissed the valet 
with the words: 

^‘Now be at ease, Frishie; for as long as you are faithful to 
me I will be silent in regard to you.” 

And as the second dinner-bell had rung some little time be- 
fore, Lord Vincent stepped before the glass, brushed his hair, 
and went downstairs. 

As soon as he had left the room another person appeared 
upon the scene. Old Katie came out from the thick folds of a 
window curtain and stood in the center of the room with up- 
lifted hands and up-rolled eyes, and an expression of counte- 
nance indescribable by any word in our language. 

For more than a minute, perhaps while one could slowly 
count a hundred, she stood thus. And then, dropping her 
hands and lowering her eyes, she walked soberly up to Lord 
Vincent’s tall dressing-glass, plucked the parti-colored turban 
off her head and looked at herself, muttering: 

‘^Ko! it aint white, nor likewise gray! dough I did think, 
when dat creeping coldness come stealing through to roots of 
my h’ar, when I heerd dem wilyuns at deir deblish plot, as ebery 
libbing ha’r on my head was turned on a suddint white as snow; 
as I’ve heerd tell of happening to people long o’ fright. But 
dar! my ha’r is as good as new, dough it has had enough to 
turn it gray on a suddint in dis las’ hour! Well, laws! I do 
think as Marse Ishmael Worth mus’ be somefin of a prophet, 
as well as a good deal of a lawyer! He telled me to watch 
ober de peace and honor of Lady Vincent. Yes, dem was his 
berry words — peace and honor. Well, laws! little did I think 
how much dey would want watching ober. An3rways, I’ve kep’ 
my word and done my duty. And I’ve found out somefin as all 
de crowners, and constables and law-fellows couldn’t find out 
wid all deir lamin’. And dat is who kilt poor misfortunate 
Miss Ailsie, poor gal! And I’ve found out somefin worse ’an 
dat, dough people might think there couldn’t be nothing worse; 
but deir is. And dat is dis deblish plot agin my ladyship. Oh, 
dem debils ! Hanging is too good for my lordship and his sham 


144 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

wally — wally sham! but it’s all de same. And now I go right 
straight and tell my ladyship all about it,” said Katie, settling 
her turban on her head and hurrying from the room. 

She met Lady Vincent, elegantly dressed in a rose-colored 
brocade and adorned with pearls, on her way to the dinner- 
table. 

“ Oh, my ladyship, I’ve found out somefin dreadful ! I must 
tell you all about it ! ” she exclaimed, in excitement, as she 
stopped her mistress. 

“ Kot now, Katie. Dinner is waiting. Go into my dressing 
room and stop there until I come. I will not stay long in the 
drawing room this evening,” said Lady Vincent, who thought 
that Katie’s news would prove to be only some fresh rumors 
concerning the murder of poor Ailsie. 

‘‘My ladyship, you had better stop now and hear me,” 
pleaded the old woman. 

“I tell you dinner is waiting, Katie,” said Lady Vincent, 
hurrying past her. 

Ah ! she had better have stopped then, if she had only known 
it. Old Katie groaned in the spirit and went t» the dressing 
room as she was bid. 

She sat down before the fire and looked at the clock on the 
chimney piece. It was just seven. 

“Dat funnelly dinner will keep my ladyship an hour at the 
very latest bit. It will be eight o’clock afore she comes back. 
Laws-a-massy, what shall I do?” grunted the old woman im- 
patiently. 

Slowly, slowly, passed that hour of waiting. The clock 
struck eight. 

“ She’ll be here every minute now,” said old Katie, with a 
sigh of relief. 

But minute after minute passed and Claudia did not come. 
A half an hour slipped away. Old Katie in her impatience 
got up and walked about the room. She heard the rustle of 
silken drapery, and peeped out. It was only Mrs. Dugald, in 
her rich white brocade dress, passing into her own apartments. 

“Kasty, wenemous, pison sarpint! I’ll fix you out yet!” 
muttered old Katie between her teeth, with a perfectly dia- 
bolical expression of countenance, as she shook her head at the 
vanishing figure of the beauty; for that was the unlucky way 
in which pocr Katie’s black phiz expressed righteous indigna- 


A LINK IN CLAUDIA'S FATE, 


145 


do wonder what has become of my ladyship. This is a- 
keeping of her word like a ladyship oughter, aint it now? I 
go and look for her,” said Katie. 

But just as she had opened the door for that purpose her 
eyes fell upon the figure of the viscoant, creeping with stealthy, 
silent, cat-like steps towards the apartments of Mrs. Dugald, 
in which he disappeared. 

“Ah ha! dat’s somefin’ else. Somefin^ goin’ on in dere. 
Well, if I don’t ax myself to dat party, my name’s not old Aunt 
Katie Mortimer, dat’s all ! ” said the old woman in glee, as she 
cautiously stole from the room and approached the door lead- 
ing into Mrs. Dugald’s apartments. 

When at the door, which was ajar, she peeped in. The suite 
was arranged upon the same plan as Lady Vincent’s own. As 
Katie peered in, she saw through the vista of three rooms* into 
the dressing room, which was the last of the suite. Before the 
dressing-room fire she saw the viscount and Mrs. Dugald stand- 
ing, their faces towards the fire; their backs towards Katie. 

She cautiously opened the door and stepped in, closing it 
silently behind her. Then she crept through the intervening 
rooms and reached the door of the dressing room, which was 
draped around with heavy velvet hangings, and' she concealed 
herself in their folds, where she coul^' see and hear everything 
that passed. 

“ How long is this to go on ? Do you know that the presence 
of my rival maddens me every hour of the day? Are you not 
afraid — you would be, if you knew me ! — that I should do some 
desperate deed ? I tell you that I am afraid of myself 1 I can- 
not always restrain my impulses, Malcolm. There are mo- 
ments when I doubt whether you are not playing me false. 
And at such times I am in danger of doing some desperate deed 
that will make England ring with the hearing of it,” said Mrs. 
Dugald, with passionate earnestness. 

“ Faustina, you know that I adore you. Be patient a few 
days longer — a very few days. The time is nearly ripe. I 
have at last found the instrument of which I have been so 
much in need. This man, Frisbie. He is completely in my 
power, and will be a ready tool. I will tell you the whole 
scheme. But stop! first I must secure this interview from in- 
terruption. Not a word of this communication must be over- 
heard by any chance listener,” said Lord Vincent. 

And to poor old Katie’s consternation he passed swiftly to 


146 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

the outer door of the suite of rooms, locked it and put the 
key in his pocket and returned to the dressing room, the door 
of which remained open. 

^‘Dere! if I aint cotch like an old rat in a trap, you may 
take my hat! Don’t care! I gwine hear all dey got to say. 
An’ if dey find me dey can’t hang me for it, dat’s one good 
thing! And maybe dey won’t find me, if I keep still till my 
lordship — ^perty lordship he is — unlocks de door and goes out, 
and den I slip out myself, just as I slipped in, and nobody none 
de wiser. Only if I don’t sneeze. I feel dreadful like sneezing. 
Nobody ever had such an unlucky nose as I have got. Laws, 
laws, if I was to sneeze ! ” thought old Katie to herself as she 
lurked behind the draperies. 

But soon every sense was absorbed in listening to the vil- 
lainous plot that Lord Vincent was unfolding to his companion. 
It was the very same plot that he had communicated to his 
valet, the atrocity of which had shocked even that cut-throat. 
It did not shock Faustina, however. She listened with avidity. 
She co-operated with zeal. She suggested such modifications 
and improvements for securing the success of the conspiracy, 
and the safety of the conspirators, as only her woman’s tact, 
inspired by the demon, could invent. 

“ Oh, the she-sarpint ! the deadly, wenemous, pisonous sar- 
pint ! ” shuddered Katie, in her hiding-place. “ I’ve heern 
enough this night to hang the shamwally, and send all the 
rest on ’em to Bottommy Bay. And I’ll do it, too, if ever I live 
to get out’n this room alive.” 

But at that instant the catastrophe that Katie had dreaded 
occurred. Katie sneezed — once, twice, thrice : Hick-ket-choo ! 
Hick-ket-choo ! Hick-ket-choo ! ” 

Had a bombshell exploded in that room it co>uld not have 
excited a greater commotion. Lord Vincent sprang up, and in 
an instant had the eavesdropper by the throat. 

“ Now, you old devil, what have you got to say for yourself? 
demanded the viscount, in a voice of repressed fury, as he 
shook Katie. 

“ I say — Cuss my nose ! There never was sich a misf ortunate 
nose on anybod5^s face — a-squoking out dat way in onseason- 
able hours ! ” cried Katie. 

“ How dare you be caught eavesdropping in these rooms, you 
wretch ? ” demanded the viscount, giving her another shake. 

‘‘And why wouldn’t I, you grand vilyun? And you herq 


A LINK IN Claudia’s fate. 147 

a-plotting of your deblish plots agin my own dear babyship — 
I mean my ladyship, as is like my own dear baby! And 
‘wretch’ yourself! And how dare you lay your hands on me? 
on me, as has heern enough this precious night to send you 
down to the bottom of Bottommy Bay, to work in de mud, wid 
a chain and a weight to your leg, you rascal! and a man with 
a whip over your head, you vilyun! ’Stead o’ standin’ dere 
sassin’ at me, you ought to go down on your bare knees, and beg 
and pray me to spare you ! Dough you needn’t, neither, ’cause 
I wouldn’t do it ! no ! not if you was to wallow under my feet, 
I wouldn’t. ’Cause soon as eber I gets out’n dis room I gwine 
right straight to de queen and tell her all about it; and ax her 
if she’s de mist’ess of England and lets sich goings on as dese 
go on in her kingdom. And if I can’t get speech of the queen, 
I going to tell de fust magistet I can find — dere! And you, 
too, you whited salt-peter! you ought dis minute to he pickin’ 
of oakum in a crash gown and cropped hair ! And you shall be, 
too, afore many days, ef eber I lives to get out’n dis house 
alive ! ” shrieked Katie, shaking her fist first at one culprit and 
then at the other, and glaring inextinguishable hatred and de- 
fiance upon both. For righteous wrath had rendered her per- 
fectly insensible to fear. 

Meanwhile the viscount held her in a death-grip ; his face was 
ghastly pale; his teeth tightly clenched; his eyes starting. 

“ Faustina, she is as ignorant as dirt, but her threats are not 
vain. If she leaves this room alive all is lost ! ” he exclaimed, 
in breathless excitement. 

“ She must not leave it alive ! ” said the fell woman. 

Katie heard the fatal words, and opened her mouth to 
scream for help. But the fingers of the viscount tightened 
around her throat and strangled the scream in its utterance. 
And he bore her down to the floor and placed his knee on her 
chest. And there was murder in the glare with which he 
watched her death-throes. 

“ Faustina ! ” he whispered hoarsely, “ help me ! have you 
nothing to shorten this?” 

She flew to a cabinet, from which she took a small vial, filled 
with a colorless liquid, and brought it to him. 

He disengaged one hand to take it, and then stooped over 
his victim. And in a few moments Katie ceased to struggle. 

Then he arose from his knees with a low laugh, whispering; 

“It is all right.” 


148 


self-raised; or, from the depths 


CHAPTER XXI. 

NEWS FOR ISHMAEL. 

December’s sky is chill and drear, 

December’s leaf is dun and sere ; 

No longer Autumn’s glowing red 
Upon our forest hills is shed: 

No more beneath the evening beam 
The wave reflects their crimson gleam; 

The shepherd shifts his mantle’s fold 
And wraps him closely from the cold; 

His dogs no merry circles wheel, 

But shivering follow at his heel; 

And cowering glances often cast 
As deeper moans the gathering blast. 

—ScoU. 

*^A11 that is good must be worked for,” wrote the wisest of 
our sages. Ishmael felt the truth of this, and worked hard. 

His first success at the bar had been so brilliant as to dazzle 
and astonish all his contemporaries; and upon the fame of that 
success he prospered exceedingly. 

But Ishmael well knew that if it needed hard work to win 
fame, it needed much harder work to keep it. 

He felt that if he became idle or careless now, his brilliant 
success would prove to be but a meteor’s flash, instead of the 
clear and steady planet light he intended it to become. 

He read and thought with great diligence and perseverance; 
and so he often found a way through labyrinths of difiiculty 
that would have baffled any less firmly persistent thinker and 
worker. 

And thus his success, splendid from the first, was gaining 
permanency every day. 

His reputation was established on a firm foundation, and 
he was building it up strongly as well as highly.^ 

Strangers who had heard of the celebrated young barrister, 
and had occasion to seek his professional services, always ex- 
pected to find a man of thirty or thirty-five years old, and were 
astonished to see one of scarcely twenty-two. 

Ishmael was very much admired and courted by the best 
circles of the Capital; but, though eminently social and affec- 
tionate in his nature, he entered only moderately into society. 
Devotion to company and attention to business were incom- 
patible, he knew. 


NEWS FOR ISHMAEIa 


149 


If tliere ever happened to be an alternative of a tempting 
evening party, where he might be sure of meeting many con- 
genial friends on the one hand, and an impending case that 
required careful preparation on the other, you may rely on it 
that Ishmael sacrificed pleasure and gave himself up to duty. 
And this he did, not occasionally, but always; in this way he 
earned and retained his high position. 

And, ambitious young reader, this is the only way. 

Thus in useful and successful work Ishmael employed the 
autumn that Claudia in her distant home was wasting in idle- 
ness and repinings. 

On the first Monday in December Congress met, as usual. 
And about the middle of the month the Supreme Court sat. 

Therefore Ishmael was not very much surprised when one 
morning, just after he had brought a very difficult suit to a 
triumphant termination, he saw his friend Judge Merlin enter 
his private office. 

Ishmael started up joyously to greet his visitor; but stopped 
short on seeing how pale, haggard, and feeble the old man 
looked. And his impulsive exclamation of : “ Oh, judge, I am 
so glad to see you,” changed at once to the commiserating 
words — How sorry I feel to see you so indisposed ! Have you 
been ill long ? ” he inquired, as he placed his easiest chair for 
the supposed invalid. 

“Yes, I have been ill, Ishmael, very ill; but not long, and 
not in body — in mind, Ishmael, in mind ! ” and the old man sank 
into the chair and, resting his elbow on the office table, bowed 
his stricken head upon his hand. 

Ishmael drew near and bent over him in respectful sympathy, 
waiting for his confidence. But as the judge continued over- 
whelmed and silent, the young man took the initiative, and in 
a soft and reverential tone said: 

“ I do hope, sir, that you have met with no serious trouble.” 

A deep groan was the only answer. 

“ Can I serve you in any way, sir? You know that I am de- 
voted to your interests.” 

“ Yes, Ishmael, yes, I know that you are the most faithful 
of friends, as well as the most accomplished of counselors. It 
is in both characters, my dear boy, that you are wanted to-day.” 

“Instruct me, sir. Command me. I am entirely at your 
disposal.” 

“Even to the extent of going to Europe with me?” 


150 self-eaised; OR, from the depths. 

Ishmael hesitated; but only because he was utterly unpre- 
pared for the proposal; and then he answered: 

‘^Yes, sir; if it should appear to be really necessary to your 
interests.” 

“ Oh, Ishmael ! I am an old and world-worn man, and I have 
had much experience; but, indeed, I know not how to break to 
you the news I have to bring ! ” groaned the judge. 

If there is any man in the world you can. confide in it is 
Eurely myself, your friend and your attorney.” 

“ I feel sure of that, Ishmael, quite sure of that. Well, I do 
not see any better way of putting you in possession of the facts 
than by letting you read these letters. When you have read 
them all, you will know as much as I do,” said the judge, as 
he drew from his pocket a parcel of papers and looked over 
them. There, read that first,” he continued, placing one in 
Ishmael’s hand. 

Ishmael opened the letter and read as follows: 

‘‘Castle Cragg, near Banff, Buchan, Scotland. 

“My Dearest Father: We are all in good health; there- 
fore do not be alarmed, even though I earnestly implore you 
to drop everything you may have in hand and come over to me 
immediately, by the very first steamer that sails after your 
receipt of this letter. F ather, you will comply with my entreaty 
when I inform you that I have been deceived and betrayed by 
him who swore to cherish and protect me. My life and honor 
are both imperiled. I will undertake to guard both for a 
month, until you come. But come at once to your wronged but 

“ Loving child, 

“ Claudia.” 

“ Good Heaven, sir, what does this mean ? ” exclaimed Ish- 
mael, looking up, after he had read the letter. 

“I do not clearly know myself. It is what I wish you to 
help me to find out.” 

“ But — ^when was this letter received ? ” 

“ On Monday last.” 

“ On Monday last,” repeated Ishmael, glancing at the envel- 
ope ; “ that was the 5th of December ; and it is postmarked 
‘ Banff, October 15th.’ Is it possible that this important 
letter has been seven weeks on its way ? ” 

“ Yes, it is quite possible. If you look at the envelope closely 


NEWS FOR ISHMAEL. 


151 


you will see that it is stamped ^Missent/ and remailed from 
San Francisco, California, to which place it was sent by mis- 
take. You perceive it has traveled half around the world be- 
fore coming here.” 

How very unfortunate ! and a letter so urgent as this ! Sir, 
can you give me any idea of the danger that threatens Lady 
Vincent?” inquired Ishmael, raising his eyes for a moment 
from his study of the letter. 

“Read this second letter; I received it, and a third one, by 
the very same mail that brought the long-delayed first one,” 
replied the judge. 

Ishmael took this letter also, and read: 

McGruder^s Hotel, Edinboro’, Scotland, 

“ November 25, 184 — . 

“My Dearest Father: I wrote to you about six weeks ago, 
informing you that I was in sorrow and in danger, and im- 
ploring you to come and comfort and protect me. And since 
that time I have been waiting with the most acute anxiety to 
hear from you by letter or in person. Expecting this VN^ith con- 
fidence, I did not think it necessary to write again. But, as 
so long a time has elapsed, I begin to fear that you have not re- 
ceived my letter, and so I write again. Oh, my father! if you 
should not be already on your way to my relief — if you should 
be still lingering at home on the receipt of this letter, fly to 
me at once! My situation is desperate; my danger imminent; 
my necessity extreme. Oh, sir! an infamous plot has been 
hatched against me ; I have been driven with ignominy from my 
husband’s house; my name has gone over the length and 
breadth of England, a by-word of reproach! I am alone and 
penniless in this hotel ; in which I know not how short the time 
may be that they will permit me to stay. Come! Come 
quickly ! Come and save, if it be possible, your wretched child, 
" “ Claudia.” 


“ Heaven of heavens ! how can this be ? ” cried Ishmael, 
looking up from these fearful lines into the woe-worn face of 
the judge. 

“ Oh, I know but little more than yourself. Read this third 
letter.” 

Ishmael eagerly took and opened it and read; 


152 


SELF-RAISED ; OR, i ROM THE DEPTHS. 

Cameron Court, near Edinboro’, 

“ November 2t, 184 — . 

‘‘Judge Merlin — Sir: Your unhappy daughter is under my 
roof. As soon as I heard what had happened at Castle Cragg, 
and learned that she was alone and unprotected at McGruder’s, 
I lost no time in going to her and offering my sympathy and 
protection. I induced her to come with me to my home. I 
have heard her story from her own lips. And I believe her to 
be the victim of a cunningly contrived conspiracy. Lord Vin- 
cent has filed a petition for divorce, upon the ground of alleged 
infidelity. Therefore I join my urgent request to hers that, if 
this finds you still in America, you will instantly on its receipt 
leave for England. I write in great haste to send my letter 
by the Irish Express so as it may intercept the steamer at 
Queenstown and reach you by the same mail that carries hers 
of the 25th; and so mitigate your anxiety by assuring you of 
her personal safety, with sympathizing friends; although her 
honor is endangered by a diabolical conspiracy, from which it 
will require the utmost legal skill to deliver her. 

“With great respect, sir, I remain, 

“ Berenice, Countess of Hurstmonceux.” 

“You will go by the first steamer, sir,” said Ishmael. 

“ Certainly. This is Saturday morning ; one sails at noon 
from New York to-day; but I could not catch that.” 

“ Of course not ; but the ‘ Oceana ’ sails from Boston on 
Wednesday.” 

“ Yes ; I shall go by her. But, Ishmael, can you go with me ? ” 
inquired the judge, with visible anxiety. 

“ Certainly,” promptly replied the young man, never hinting 
at the sacrifices he would have to make in order to accompany 
his friend on so long a journey. 

“ Thank you, thank you, my dear Ishmael ! I knew you 
would. You will be of great assistance. Of course we must op- 
pose this rascally viscount’s petition, and do our best to un- 
mask his villainy. But how to do it? I was never very quick- 
witted, Ishmael; and now my faculties are blunted with age. 
But I have much to hope from your aid in this case. I know 
that you cannot appear publicly for Lady Vincent; but at the 
same time you may be of inestimable value as a private coun- 
selor. Your genius, acumen, and wonderful insight will en- 
able us to expose this conspiracy, defeat the viscount, and save 


NEWS FOR ISIIMAEL. 


153 

Claudia, if anything on earth can do so. Thank you, thank 
you, good and noble young friend ! ” said the judge, taking and 
cordially pressing his hand. 

J udge, you know that you are most heartily welcome to 
all my services. There is no one in the world that I would 
work for with more pleasure than for you,” replied the young 
man, returning the pressure. 

“ I know it, my boy. Heaven bless you ! ” 

“And now let us arrange for our journey. As the steamer 
leaves Boston on next Wednesday morning, we should leave 
here on Tuesday morning at latest.” 

“ Yes, I suppose so.” 

“ Therefore, you see, we have but three days before us ; and, 
as the Sabbath intervenes, we have really but two for prepara- 
tion — to-day and Monday.” 

“ That will be sufficient.” 

“ Yes, sir. But, judge, I must run down into St. Mary’s, and 
take leave of my betrothed, before starting on so long a jour- 
ney.” 

“ Oh, Ishmael, you will not have time.- Suppose you should 
be too late to meet the steamer ? ” 

“ I will not be too late. Judge Merlin. I will hire a horse 
and start this mo-ming. I can get fresh horses at several 
places on the road, and reach the Beacon before twelve o’clock 
at night. I can si)end the Sabbath there, and go to church with 
the family. And on Monday morning I will make an early start, 
so as to be here on Monday night.” 

“ Oh, Ishmael, it will be a great risk.” 

“Hot at all; I shall be sure to come up in time. And, be- 
sides, you know I must see Bee before I go,” said Ishmael, 
with that confiding smile that no one could resist. 

“Well, well, I suppose it must be so; so go on; but only be 
punctual.” 

“I surely will.” 

“ And oh, by the way, Ishmael, tell Mr. Middleton all about 
it ; that is, all we know, which is very little, since neither Lady 
Vincent nor Lady Ilurstmonceux has given us any details.” 

“ Then Mr. Middleton knows nothing of this ? ” 

“Hot a syllable. I left the neighborhood without breathing 
a hint of it to any human being. I did not even think of doing 
so. Oh, Ishmael, I was in a state of distraction when I left 
home! Think of it! I had been tormented with anxiety for 


T54 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

weeks before the receipt of these letters. For, listen: you know 
that Claudia sailed on the first of October. Well; I calculated 
it would take about two weeks for her to reach Liverpool, and 
about two more weeks for a letter to return. So I made myself 
contented until the first of FTovember, when, as I expected, I 
received my first letter from her. It was a very long letter, 
dated at various times from the sea, and written during the 
voyage, and mailed at Queenstown. Three days later I .re- 
ceived another and shorter letter, merely advising me of her 
safe arrival in England, and mailed from Liverpool. Still three 
days later a letter dated Aberdeen, and informing me of her 
journey to Scotland. A whole week later — for it appeared 
this last letter was much delayed on its route — I got a short 
letter from her dated Banff, and telling me that she had ar- 
rived that far on her journey, and expected to be at Castle 
Cragg the same evening. Now these letters were all dated 
within one or two days of each other, though there was a longer 
time between the reception of each; a fact, I suppose, to be ac- 
counted for by the irregularity of the ocean mails. The last 
letter, dated October 14th, did not reach me until November 
12th. And after that I received no more letters, until I got 
these three all by one mail. You may judge how intense my 
anxiety was until these letters came; and how distracted my 
mind, as soon as I had read them.” 

“ Oh, yes, sir, yes ! ” 

“ Therefore, you see, I never thought of what was due to 
Middleton, or anybody else. So just tell him all about it, but 
in strict confidence; for Claudia must not become the subject 
of gossip here, poor child ! ” 

“No, sir; certainly she must not. I will bind Mr. Middle- 
ton to secrecy before I tell him anything about it.” 

“ Yes, and — stop a moment ! You had better just show him 
these letters. They will speak for themselves and save you 
the trouble. Tell him that we know no more than these letters 
reveal.” 

“I will do so, Judge Merlin.” 

“ And now, Ishmael, I must return to my hotel, where I ex- 
pect to meet my old friend, General Tourneysee. When do you 
start for St. Mary’s ? ” 

“Within an hour from this.” 

“ Well, then, call at the hotel on your way and take leave of 
me.” 


NEWS FOR ISHMAEL. 


155 


‘a will do so/’ 

“ Good-by, for the present,” said the judge, shaking hands 
with his young friend. 

As soon as Judge Merlin had left the office Ishmael sank 
down into his chair and yielded up his mind to intense thought. 

It was true, then, the terrible presentiment of evil that had 
haunted his imagination in regard to Claudia was now real- 
ized! The dark storm cloud that his prophetic eye had seen 
lowering over her had now burst in ruin on her head! How 
strange! how unexplainable by human reason were these mys- 
teries of the spirit! But Ishmael lost no time in fruitless 
speculations. He arose quickly and rang the bell. 

The professor answered it. 

Morris, I wish you to go around to Bellingby’s stables and 
ask them to send me a good, fresh horse, immediately, to go 
into the country. I shall want him for three days. Tell them to 
send me the brown horse, J ack, if he is not in use ; but if he is, 
tell them to send the strongest and fastest horse they have.” 

Yes, sir,” answered the professor, hurrying off. 

Ishmael went up to his chamber and packed his valise, and 
then returned to the office and summoned his first clerk, told 
him that he was going into the country immediately, for three 
days, and that after his return he should start for Europe, to 
be gone for a few weeks, and gave him instructions regarding 
the present conduct of the office business, and promised di- 
rections respecting the future administration of professional 
affairs when he should return from the country before start- 
ing for Europe. 

When he had got through his conference with his clerk, and 
the latter had left the private office, the professor, who had 
come back and was waiting his turn, entered. 

«Well, Morris?” 

“ Well, sir, the brown horse will be here as soon as he is fed, 
and watered, and saddled, and bridled. He is in good condition, 
sir, and quite fresh, as he hasn’t been in use for two days, sir.” 

All right, professor, sit down ; I have something to tell you.” 

“Yes, sir? Indeed, sir!” said Jim Morris, taking his seat 
and feeling sure he should presently hear Mr. Worth was going 
down into the country for the purpose of marrying Miss Mid- 
dleton and bringing her home. But the news that he really 
heard astonished him more than this would have done. 

“ I shall start for Europe on Wednesday, Morris.” 


156 SELF-KAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

You don’t say so, sir ! ” exclaimed the old man. 

“Yes; sudden business. But I promised you, professor, that 
if ever I should go to Europe you should go with me, if you 
should please to do so. JSTow I will give you your choice. You 
shall attend me to Europe, or stay here and take care of my 
rooms while I am gone.” 

The professor’s eyes fairly danced at the idea of crossing the 
mighty Atlantic and seeing glorious old Europe; but still he 
had sense of propriety and self-denial enough to say: 

“I am willing to do that which will be of the most use to 
yourself, sir.” 

“ Morris, you would be of great use to me in either position. 
If you should stay here, I should feel sure that my rooms were 
safe in the care of a faithful keeper.” 

“ Then, sir, I prefer to stay.” 

“ Yes, but stop a moment. If you should go with me, I should 
enjoy the trip much more. I should enjoy it myself and enjoy 
your enjoyment of it also. And, besides, it would be so pleas- 
ant to feel that I had an attached friend always with me.” 

“ Then, Mr. Worth, as there is about as much to be said on 
one side as there is on the other. I’ll do whichever you prefer.” 

“I greatly prefer that you should go with me, professor,” 
said Ishmael, who read the old man’s eager desire to travel. 

“ Then I’ll go, sir ; and with the greatest of pleasure.” 

“ Can you be ready to leave for Boston on Tuesday morning, 
to catch the steamer that sails on Wednesday?” 

“ Law, yes, sir ! what’s to hinder ? Why, I would be ready in 
ten minutes, sooner than miss going to Europe. What’s to do 
but just pitch my* clothes into a trunk and lock it?” 

“ Well, ^Morris, I will give you time enoiigX to pack your 
clothes carefully, and mine also. Th^re is the horse!” ex- 
claimed tshmael, rising and locking his desk. 

“ Sure enough, there he is, and leoking as gay as a lark, this 
bright morning. You will have a pleasant ride, sir,” said the 
profes&or, looking from the windqj^. 

“Yes; fetch my overcoat from the'passage, Morris.” 

“Yes, sir; here it is. But won’t you take just a bit of 
luncheon before you go? I am sure. the ladies would get it 
ready for you quick, and glad to do it.” 

“No, thank you, Morris. You know I ate breakfast only 
two hours ago, and a very hearty one, too, as I always do. 
So I shall not require anything until I get to Horsehead,” said 


ishmael’s visit to bee. 157 

Ishmael, buttoning up his greatcoat. Then he drew on his 
gloves and shook hands with the professor. 

“ Good-by, Morris ! God bless you ! Think of going to 
Europe.” 

‘‘ Oh, sir, you may be sure I shan’t think of anything else 
all day, nor dream of anything else all night. To think of my 
seeing the Tower of London ! Well, sir, good-by ! And the Lord 
bless you and give you a pleasant journey,” said the professor, 
as he handed his master’s hat. 


CHAPTEK XXII. 
ishmael’s visit to bee. 

Thank Heaven my first love failed, 

As every first love should. 

—Patmore. 

Ishmael mounted and rode off, calling only at the hotel 
to say good-by to the judge and renew his promise of a punctual 
return. 

Then he galloped blithely away; crossed the beautiful Ana- 
costia, by the Xavy Yard bridge; and gayly took the road to 
the old St. Mary’s. 

Gayly? Yes, gayly, notwithstanding all. 

To be sure he was sorry for Claudia; and he proved it by 
consenting, at a great sacrifice of his personal interests, 
to cross the ocean and go to her assistance. But he 
had faith in the' doctrine that— “ Ever the right comes upper- 
most”; and he believed, that she'; would be deliveied from her 
troubles. And his compassion for Claudia did not prevent him 
from rejoicing exceedingly in the speedy prospect of meeting 
Bee. Besides he nd longer loved Claudia, except with that 
Christian kindliness; which .^e cherished for every member of 
the human family. 

You may be sure that the sickly, sentimental, sinful folly of 
loving another man’s wife, even if she had been, before her 
marriage, his own early passion, was very far below Ishmael’s 
healthy, rational, and honorable nature. Xo nerve in his bosom 
vibrated to the sound of Claudia’s name. The passion of his 
heart was perfectly cured; its wounds were quite healed; even 


158 self-baised; or, from the depths. 

its scars were effaced. He could have smiled at the memory 
01 that ill-starred passion now. 

He was heart-whole, and his whole heart — ^his sound, large, 
loving heart — was unreservedly given to Bee. 

And therefore, notwithstanding' his compassion for the mis- 
fortunes of Claudia, he rode gayly on to his anticipated meet- 
ing with his betrothed. 

It was a fine, frosty, bracing, winter morning; the roads were 
good; and the horse was fresh; and he enjoyed his ride ex- 
ceedingly, rejoicing in his youth, health, and happy, well-placed 
love. 

He galloped all the way to Horsehead, where he arrived at 
noon, took an early dinner, procured a fresh horse and continued 
his journey. 

He rode all the short, bright winter afternoon, and at dusk 
reached his second stopping-place, where he took an early tea, 
changed his horse, and started afresh. 

Four more hours of riding through the leafless forest, and 
under the starlit sky, brought him in sight of the water ; and a 
few minutes brought him to the door of the Beacon. 

Here he sprung from his saddle ; secured his horse to a post ; 
and rushed up the front steps to the hall door and rang. An 
old servant opened it. 

“ Oh, Mr. Ishmael, sir ! what a surprise ! I am so glad to see 
you, sir.” 

Thank you, Ben. How are the family ? ” 

“All well, sir. Walk in, sir. Won’t they be delighted to see 
you ! ” said the old man, opening a side door leading into the 
lighted drawing room, and announcing: 

“Mr. Worth!” 

There was a general jumping up of the party around the fire- 
side, and a hasty rushing towards the visitor. 

Mr. Middleton was foremost, holding out both his hands, and 
exclaiming : 

“Why, how do you do? Is this you? This is a surprise! 
Where did you drop from ? ” 

“Washington, sir,” replied Ishmael, returning the hand- 
shaking, and then passing on to meet the ready welcome of Mrs. 
Middleton and the young folks. 

“How do you do, Mrs. Middleton? Dearest Bee — it is such 
joy to meet you ! ” he said, as he returned the lady’s greeting, 
and pressed the maiden’s hand to his lips. 


ishmael’s visit to bee. 159 

Bee was fairer, fresher, and lovelier than ever, as she stood 
there, blushing, but delighted to see him. 

“How do you do. Worth?” spoke another deep voice. 

Ishmael looked up suddenly, and saw his father standing be- 
fore him. The latter had approached from a distant part of the 
room. 

“Mr. Brudenell — you here? This is indeed a pleasant sur- 
pi-ise ! ” said the young man joyfully. 

“ Mutually so, I assure you, Ishmael.” 

“ When did you arrive, sir ? ” 

“ Only this afternoon. I came up to take the Shelton boat, 
that goes to Washington on Monday. My dislike to Sunday 
traveling decided me to come up to-day, and quarter myself on 
our friend Middleton for the Sabbath, so as to be in readiness 
to catch the ^ Errand Boy ’ on Monday.” 

“ You were coming to see me, I hope, sir? ” 

“ Not purposely, my dear fellow. I had other business, less 
pleasant but more pressing. I should have called on you, how- 
ever, though I could not have stayed long; for I must go by 
the Monday evening train to Bo^on, in order to catch the 
* Oceana,’ that sails on Wednesday morning. I am oif by her.” 

“ Indeed, sir ! ” exclaimed Ishmael, in surprise and delight. 

Why, I am going to Europe by the ^ Oceana ’ ! ” 

“ You ! ” responded the elder man, in equal surprise and pleas- 
ure. “ Why, what on earth should take you to Europe ? ” 

“ I go on strictly confidential business with Judge Merlin.” 

“ Merlin going to England, too ? Oh, I see ! ” 

The last three words were uttered in a low tone, and with 
a total change of manner, that struck Ishmael with the sus- 
picion that Mr. Brudenell knew more of Lady Vincent’s trou- 
bles than anyone on this side of the ocean, except her father 
and himself, was supposed to know. 

“ Going to Europe, Ishmael? you and the judge? Well, Mer- 
lin did start off at a tangent yesterday from Tanglewood. I 
suppose he is pining after his child, and has taken a sudden 
freak to rush over and see her. And as you are the staff of his 
age, of course, he would not think of undertaking so long a 
journey without the support of your company. Am I right?” 
inquired Mr. Middleton jollily. 

“ Judge Merlin is going to see Lady Vincent, and has invited 
me to accompany him, and I have accepted the invitation,” 
answered the young man. 


f 


160 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

“ Exactly, precisely, just so. But I wonder how the son of 
Powhatan, Merlin of Tanglewood, who could scarcely breathe 
out of the boundless wilderness, will like to sojourn in that 
cleared-up, trim, tidy, well-packed little island ! ” laughed Mr. 
Middleton ; while Mr. Brudenell looked down, and slowly nodded 
his head. 

Meanwhile Bee’s careful, affectionate eyes noticed that Ish- 
mael was very tired, and she said something in a low voice 
to her father. 

‘‘ To be sure — to be sure, my dear. I ought to have thought 
of that myself. Ishmael, my boy, you have ridden hard to-day; 
you look fagged. Go right up into your own room now — you 
know where to find it; it is the same one you occupied when 
you were here last, kept sacred to you ; and I will send up Ben 
to rub you down and curry you well; and by the time he has 
done that Bee will have the provender ready,” said Mr. Middle- 
ton, whose delight at seeing his welcome visitor hurried him 
into all sorts of absurdities. 

Ishmael smiled, bowed, and withdrew. 

Half an hour afterwards, when he returned to the drawing 
room, looking, as Mr. Middleton said, well-groomed and much 
refreshed,” Mrs. Middleton touched the bell; the doors leading 
into the dining room were thrown open; and the guests were 
invited to sit down to a delicious supper of fresh fish, oysters, 
crabs, and waterfowl, which had been spread there in honor of 
Mr. Brudenell’s arrival; but which was equally appropriate to 
Ishmael’s welcome presence. 

After supper, when they returned to the drawing room, Ish- 
mael found an opportunity of saying aside to his host that he 
wished to have some private conversation with him that night. 

Accordingly, when the evening circle had broken up and each 
had withdrawn to his or her own apartment, and Ishmael found 
himself alone in his chamber, he heard a rap at his door, and 
on bidding the rapper come in, saw Mr. Middleton enter. 

“ I have come at your request, Ishmael,” he said, taking the 
chair that the young man immediately placed for him. 

“Thank you, sir; I wished to confide to you the cause of 
Judge Merlin’s sudden journey to England,” said Ishmael 
gravely. 

“ Why, to see his daughter ! ” exclaimed Mr. Middleton, 
raising his eyebrows. 

“Yes, it is to see Lady Vincent. But, Mr. Middleton, her 


I 


ishmael’s visit to bee. 161 

ladyship is in great sorrow and greater danger,” said the young 
man, speaking more gravely than before. 

“ Sorrow and danger ! What are you talking of, Ishmael ? ” 
inquired Mr. Middleton, knitting his brows in perplexity. 

“ Lady Vincent is separated from her husband, who has filed 
a petition for divorce from her,” said Ishmael solemnly. 

The exclamation of amazement and indignation that burst 
from Mr. Middleton’s lips was rather too profane to be recorded 
here. 

“Yes, sir; it is so,” sighed Ishmael. 

“ Who says this ? ” demanded Mr. Middleton, in a voice of 
suppressed fury. 

“ She herself says it, sir, in a letter to her father, who has 
commissioned me to impart the facts in confidence to yourself. 
Here are the letters he received and desired me to hand to you 
for perusal. They are numbered one, two, three. Read them in 
that order, and they will put you in possession of the whole 
affair, as far as is known to any of us over here.” 

Mr. Middleton grasped the letters, and one after another de- 
voured their contents. 

“ This first letter is nearly two months old ! Why has it not 
been acted upon before ? ” he demanded, in an angry manner, 
that proved he would have liked to quarrel with somebody. 

“ It was not received until two days since. It was miscarried 
and it went half around the world before it reached its proper 
destination,” said Ishmael equably. 

“ But what does it all mean, then ? What plot is this al- 
luded to ? And who is in it ? ” 

“Mr. Middleton, we know no more than you now do. We 
know no more than the letters that you have just read tell us.” 

“ But why, in the name of Heaven, then, could these letters 
not have been more explicit ? Claudia was alone at McGruder’s 
Hotel ! Where were her servants ? A plot was formed against 
her! Who formed it? Why could she not have satisfied us 
upon these subjects?” exclaimed Mr. Middleton vehemently. 

“ Sir, each letter seems to have been written under the spur 
of imminent necessity. Perhaps there was no time to enter 
fully upon the subject; perhaps also it was one that could not 
be discussed through an epistolary correspondence.” 

“ Perhaps they were all raving mad 1 ” exclaimed Mr. Middle- 
ton excitedly. “How what are you all to do?” 

“Judge Merlin and myself are going to England, as I told 


I 


162 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

you. He will support his daughter in opposing Lord Vincent’s 
application for a divorce. I will give them all the assistance 
in my power to render. Of course, as I am not a member of 
any English bar, I cannot appear as her public advocate; but 
I will serve her to the utmost of my ability as a private coun- 
selor. I will make myself master of the case and use my best 
efforts to discover and expose the conspiracy against her. And 
if I succeed, I will do my best to have the conspirators pun- 
ished. For in England, fortunately, conspiracy against the life, 
property, or character of any person or persons is a felony, pun- 
ishable by penal servitude. Fortunately, also, in the criminal 
courts of England the peer finds no more favor than the peasant. 
And if the Lord Viscount Vincent is prosecuted to conviction 
he will stand as good a chance of transportation to the penal 
colonies as the meanest confederate he has employed,” said 
Ishmael. 

wish he may be! Fd make a voyage to Sydney myself 
for the sake of seeing him working in a chain-gang. I hate 
the fellow, and always did.” 

‘‘I never liked him,” candidly admitted Ishmael; ^^but still 
it is not in the spirit of vengeance, but of stern justice, that 
I shall devote every faculty of my mind and body to the duty 
of exposing and convicting him.” 

I declare to you, Ishmael, ‘ vengeance ’ and ^ stern justice ’ 
look so much alike to me, that, as the darkies say, I cannot tell 
‘ t’other from which.’ ” 

There is a distinction, however,” said Ishmael. 

‘^But, under either name, I hope the villainous Viscount 
Vincent (I didn’t mean to make that alliteration, however) 
will get his full measure of retribution! You go by the 
‘Oceana’ on Wednesday, you say?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Well, success to you! Poor Claudia! I hope she will be 
vindicated. I will talk farther of this with you to-morrow, 
after church. How I see that you are very weary and need re- 
pose. Good-night! God bless you, my dear boy.” 

Very early the next morning Ishmael arose, and after making 
his toilet and offering up his devotions, he went out to refresh 
himself by a stroll on the beach that fine winter morning. 

Very exhilarating it was to him, coming from the crowded 
city, to saunter up and down the sands, letting his eyes wander 
over the broad, sun-lit waters and the winding, wooded shores. 


ishmael’s visit to bee. 


1G3 


He watched the latest, hardier fish, not yet driven to warmer 
climes, leap up through the sparkling ripples and disappear 
again. 

He watched the waterfowl start up in flocks from some 
near brake, and, spreading their broad wings, sail far away 
over the bright emerald-green waves. 

Along the shore he noted the sly, brown squirrel peep at him 
from her hole, and then hop quickly out of sight ; and the hardy 
little snow-bird light at his feet and then dart swiftly away. 

Very dear to Ishmael were all these little darlings of nature. 
They had been the playfellows of his boyhood; and something 
of the boy survived in Ishmael yet, as it does in every pure 
young man. It is only sin that destroys youthfulness. 

Sometimes he watched a distant sail disappear below the 
horizon, and followed her in imagination over the seas, and 
thought with youthful delight how soon he too would be on 
the deep blue waves of mid-ocean. 

A step and a voice roused him from his reverie. 

Good-morning, Ishmael ! I saw you walking here from my 
window and came out to join you.” 

“ Oh, good-morning, Mr. Brudenell ! ” exclaimed the young 
man, turning with a glad smile to meet the elder one. 

Mr. Brudenell took the arm of Ishmael, and, leaning rather 
heavily on it, joined him in his walk. 

“I know why Judge Merlin and yourself are going to Eng- 
land,” he said. 

“ I thought you did. But I could not, and cannot now, con- 
ceive how you should have found cut; since we ourselves knew 
nothing about the unfortunate affair until a day or two since; 
and it is one of a strictly private and domestic nature,” re- 
plied Ishmael. 

“ Strictly private and domestic ? Why, Ishmael, it may have 
been so in the beginning; but now it is public and patent. All 
England is ringing with the affair. It is the last sensation 
story that the reporters have got hold of. It was from the Lon- 
don papers received by the last mail that I learned the news,” 
said Mr. Brudenell, taking from his pocket the Times,” 
^‘Post,” and Chronicle.” 

Ishmael hastily glanced over the accounts of the affair as 
contained in each of these. But though the articles were long 
and wordy they afforded him no new information. 

They told him what he already knew; that the Viscount Vin- 


164 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

cent had filed a petition for divorce from his viscountess on the 
ground of infidelity; that the lady was the daughter of an 
American chief -justice; that she was a beauty and an heiress; 
that Lord Vincent had formed her acquaintance at the Presi- 
dent’s house during his official visit to Washington; that he had 
married her during the past summer; and after an extended 
bridal tour had brought her in October to Castle Cragg, when 
the suspicions that led to subsequent discovery and ultimate 
separation were first aroused, etc., etc., etc. 

All that is very unsatisfactory. I wish we Imew the sus- 
picious circumstances,” said Mr. Brudenell. 

“ I believe there were no suspicious circumstances. I be- 
lieve the whole affair to be a conspiracy against Lady Vincent,” 
said Ishmael. 

“But what motive could the viscount have for conspiracy 
against her ? ” 

“ The motive of getting rid of her, while he retains her for- 
tune, which most unluckily was not settled upon herself.” 

While Mr. Brudenell stood gazing with consternation upon 
the speaker, there came flying from the house a negro boy, who 
said that he was sent to tell them that the breakfast was ready. 

They returned to the house and joined the family at the 
cheerful breakfast table. 

It was a large party that met in the parlor afterwards to go 
to church. 

And a gig in addition to the capacious family carriage was 
in attendance. 

“Ishmael,” said Mr. Middleton, in the kindly thoughtfulness 
of his nature, “ you will drive Bee in the gig. The rest of us 
will go in the carriage.” 

“ Thank you very much, Mr. Middleton,” answered the young 
man, as he smilingly led his betrothed to the gig, placed her in it 
and seated himself beside her. 

“Go on — go on ahead! We shall not ride over you in our 
lumbering old coach I ” said Mr. Middleton. 

Ishmael nodded, took the reins, and started. The road lay 
along the high banks of the river above the sands. 

“ How delightful it is to spend this day with you, dear Bee ! ” 
he said, as they bowled along. 

“ Oh, yes ! and it is delightful to us all to have you here, Ish- 
mael ! ” she said ; and then, with a slight depression in her tone, 
she inquired; 


165 


iSHMAEL^S VISIT TO BEE. 

Will you be gone to Europe long ? ” 

“No, dearest Bee. I shall dispatch the business that takes 
me there as quickly as I can and hasten back,” he replied; but 
he forbore to hint the nature of this business; it was a subject 
with which he did not wish to wound the delicate ear of Bee 
Middleton. 

“I hope you will enjoy your voyage,” she said, smiling on 
him. 

“ I wish you were going with me, dearest Bee. I had looked 
forward to the pleasure of our seeing Europe together when 
we should go there for the first time. And the continent we will 
see together; for I shall go no farther than England. I shall 
reserve France, Italy, Germany, and Kussia for our tour next 
autumn, dear Bee.” 

She smiled on him with sympathetic delight. But as the 
road here, quite on the edge of the banks, required the most 
careful driving, the lovers’ conversation ceased for a while. 

And presently they were at the Shelton church. The con- 
gregation were in luck that day. A celebrated preacher, who 
happened to be visiting the neighborhood, occupied the pulpit. 
He preached from the text, “ Come up higher.” And his dis- 
course was a stirring call upon his hearers to strive after per- 
fection. All were pleased, instructed, and inspired. 

When the services were concluded, our party returned home 
in the same order in which they had come. And as there was 
no afternoon service, they spent the remainder of the day in 
the enjoyment of each other’s company and conversation. 

Bee and Ishmael were mercifully left to themselves, to make 
the most of the few hours before their separation. They were 
not morbid sentimentalists — those two young people; they were 
not fearful, or doubtful, or exacting of each other. If you had 
chanced to overhear their conversation, you would have heard 
none of those entreaties, warnings, and protestations that often 
make up the conversation of lovers about to part for a time, 
and a little uncertain of each other’s fidelity. They had faith, 
hope, and love for, and in, each other and their Creator. Ish- 
mael never imagined such a thing as that Bee could form an- 
other attachment, or go into a decline while he was gone. And 
Bee had no fears either that the sea would swallow her lover, or 
that a rival would carry him off. 

So at the end of that evening they bade each other a cheer- 
ful good-night. And the next morning, when Ishmael had bid 


166 self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

farewell to all the family, herself included, and was in the sad- 
dle, she sent him off with a brilliant smile and a joyous : 

“Heaven bless you, Ishmael! I know you will enjoy the 
trip.” 

But when he had ridden away and disappeared down the 
path leading through the pine woods. Bee turned into the 
house, ran into her mother’s chamber, threw herself into her 
mother’s arms, and burst into a flood of tears. 

It is the mother that always comes in for this sort of thing. 
Women spare men — sometimes; but never spare each other. 

“ My poor child ! but it isn’t far, you know ! ” 

“ Oh, mamma, such a long way ! I never expected to be sepa- 
rated so far from Ishmael.” 

“My dear, steam annihilates distance. Only think, it is 
a voyage of but ten days.” 

“I know. Oh, it was very foolish in me to cry. Thank 
Heaven, Ishmael didn’t see me,” said Bee, wiping her eyes, and 
smiling through her wet eyelashes, like a sunbeam through the 
rain-sprinkled foliage. 

Bee would scarcely have been flesh and blood if she had not 
indulged in this one hearty cry; but it was the last. 

She left her mother’s side and went about her household 
duties cheerfully, and very soon she was as happy as if Ishmael 
had not come and gone; happier, for she followed him in im- 
agination over the ocean and sympathized in his delight. 


CHAPTEK XXIII. 

HANNAH’S HAPPY PROGNOSTICS. 


The morn is np again, the dewy morn, 

With breath all incense and with cheek all bloom, 
Laughing the night away with playful scorn. 

Rejoicing as if earth contained no tomb 
And glowing into day. 

—Byron, 

Ishmael had also keenly felt the parting with Beatrice. But 
accustomed to self-government, he did not permit his feelings 
to overcome him. And indeed his mind was too well balanced 
to be much disturbed by what he believed would be but a short 
separation from his betrothed. 

He rode on gayly that pleasant winter morning, through the 


Hannah’s happy prognostics. 167 

leafless woods, until he came to those cross-roads of which we 
have so often spoken. 

Here he paused; for here it was necessary, finally, to decide 
a question that he had been debating with himself for the last 
two days. 

And that was whether or not he should take the time to go 
to see Hannah and Reuben and bid them good-by, before pro- 
ceeding on his long journey. 

To go to Woodside he must take the road through Baymouth, 
which would carry him some miles out of the direct road to 
Washington, and consume several hours of that time of which 
every moment was now so precious. But to leave the country 
without saying farewell to the friends of his infancy was re- 
pugnant to every good feeling of his heart. He did not hesitate 
long. He turned his horse’s head towards Baymouth and put 
him into a gallop. The horse was fresh, and Ishmael thought 
he would ride fast until he got to Woodside and then let the 
horse rest while he talked to Hannah. 

He rode through Baymouth without drawing rein; only giv- 
ing a rapid glance of recognition as he passed the broad show- 
window of Hamlin’s bookstore, which used to be the wonder 
and delight of his destitute boyhood. 

It was still early in the morning when he reached Woodside 
and rode up to the cottage gate. How bright and cheerful the 
cottage looked that splendid winter morning. The evergreen 
trees around it and the clusters of crimson rose-berries on the 
climbing rosevines over its porch, making quite a winter verdure 
and bloom against its white walls. 

Ishmael dismounted, tmd his horse, and entered the little gate. 
Hannah was standing (m the step of the porch, holding a tin 
pan of chicken food in her hands, and feeding two pet bantams 
that she kept separate from the shanghais, which beat them 
cruelly whenever they got a chance. 

On seeing Ishmael she dropped her pan of victuals and made 
a dash at him, exclaiming: 

“Why, Ishmael! Good fathers alive! is this you? And 
where did you drop from ? ” 

“ From my saddle at your gate, last. Aunt Hannah,” said 
Ishmael, smiling, as he folded her in his embrace. 

“But I’m so glad to see you, Ishmael! And so surprised! 
Come in, my dear, dear boy. Shoo! you greedy, troublesome 
creeturs. You’re never satisfied! I wish the shanghais would 


168 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

swallow you ! ” cried Hannah, speaking first to Ishmael as she 
cast her arms around his neck; and next to the bantams that 
had flown up to her shoulders. 

“ I am delighted to see you looking so hearty, ma’am. I de- 
clare you are growing quite stout,” said Ishmael, affectionately 
surveying his relation. 

“ Women are apt to, at my age, Ishmael. But come in, my 
dear boy, come in ! ” 

When they entered the cottage she drew Keuben’s comfortable 
armchair up to the fire; and when Ishmael had seated himself 
she said; 

‘^And now! first of all — have you had your breakfast?” 

“Hours ago, thank you.” 

“Yes; a road-side tavern breakfast. I know what that is. 
Here, Sam ! Sam ! Lord, how I do miss Sally, to be sure ! ” 
complained Hannah, as she went to the back door and bawled 
after her factotum. 

“ Sit down and give yourself no trouble. I breakfasted fa- 
mously at the Beacon.” 

“Oh!” exclaimed Hannah, with a little jealous twinge, 
“you’ve been there, have you? That accounts for everything. 
Well, I suppose it’s natural. But when is that affair to come off, 
Ishmael ? ” 

“ If you mean my marriage with Miss Middleton, it will not 
take place until next autumn. Aunt Hannah, as I believe I have 
already told you.” 

“But haven’t you been down there to coax the old man to 
shorten the time ? ” 

“ Ho, ma’am, but with a very diffe^nt purpose.” 

“A different purpose? What was it? But, law, here I am 
keeping you talking in your greatcoat! Take it off at once, 
Ishmael, and be comfortable. And I will make Sam light a 
fire and carry some hot water in your room.” 

“Ho, ma’am, do not, please. Believe me it is unnecessary, 
and indeed quite useless. I have but half an hour to stay.” 

“ But half an hour to stay with me ! Ho you mean to insult 
me, Ishmael Worth?” demanded Hannah wrathfully. 

“ Certainly not, dear Aunt Hannah,” laughed Ishmael, “ but 
I am going to leave the country, and so ” 

“ Going to — what ? ” 

“I am going to leave the country quite suddenly, and that 
is the reason 


169 


Hannah’s happy prognostics. 

^^Ishmael Worth! have you robbed a bank or killed a man 
that you are going to run away from your native land ? ” ex- 
claimed Hannah indignantly. 

Neither, ma’am,” laughed Ishmael. “ I go with Judge Mer- 
lin, on professional business ” 

Is that old man going to travel at his age ? ” 

^‘Yes, because ” 

“ The more fool he I ” 

He goes on very important business.” 

^^Very important fiddle-stick’s end! The great old baby is 
pining after his daughter. And he’s just made up this excuse 
of business because he is ashamed to let people know the real 
reason — as well he may be ! But why he should drag you along 
with him is more than I can guess.” 

“He thinks I can be of service to him, and I shall try.” 

“ You’ll try to ruin yourself, that’s what you’ll do! ” 

“ Aunt Hannah, I have but a few minutes left. If you will 
permit me, I will just give my horse some water and go.” 

“ Go ! What, so suddenly ? Lord, Lord, and Reuben away out 
in the field and the children with him! And you’ll go away 
without taking a last farewell of them. I’ll call Sam and send 
for them if you will wait a minute. Sam ! Sam ! Sam ! ” cried 
Hannah, going to the back door and screaming at the top of 
her voice. 

But no Sam was forthcoming. 

“Plague take that nigger! I do wish from the very bottom 
of my heart the deuce had him ! Now, what shall I do ? ” she 
cried, returning to the room and dropping into her chair. 

Fate answered the question by relieving her from her di- 
lemma. 

The front door opened and Reuben Gray entered, leading 
the two children and saying: 

“It was too sharp for ’em out there, Hannah, my dear, es- 
pecially as Molly, bless her, was a-sneezin’ dreadful, as if she 
was a-catchin’ a cold in her head ; and so I f otch ’em in.” 

“Reuben, where’s your eyes? Don’t you see who is in the 
room ? Here’s Ishmael ! ” exclaimed Hannah irately. 

“Ishmael! Why, so he is! Why, Lord bless you, boy. I’m 
so glad to see you ! ” exclaimed Reuben, with his honest face 
all in a glow of delight as he shook his guest’s hands. 

And at the same time the children let go their father’s hand, 
^lnd stood before the young man, waiting eagerly to be noticed. 


170 SELF-EAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

‘^Yes, you better look at him! Look at him your fill now. 
You’ll never see him again 1 ” groaned Hannah. 

“ Never see who again ? What are you talking about, Han- 
nah, my dear ? ” 

“ Ishmael I He’s come to bid a last good-by to us all. He’s 
a-going to leave his native country! He’s a-going to foreign 
parts ! ” 

“ Ishmael going to foreign parts ! ” exclaimed Reuben, gaz- 
ing in surprise on his young guest. 

“ Yes, Uncle Reuben, I am going to England with Judge Mer- 
lin on business.” 

^‘Well, to be sure! that is a surprise! I knowed the judge 
was a-going to see his darter; but I had no idee that you was 
a-going ’long of him,” said Reuben. 

“ When do you go ? that is what I want to know,” cried Han- 
nah sharply. 

“We sail in the ^Oceana’ from Boston on Wednesday; and 
that is the reason, Aunt Hannah, why I am so hurried ; you see 
I must reach Washington to-night so as to finish up my business 
there, and take the early train for the North on Tuesday 
morning.” 

“ What ? you going in one of them steamers ? Oh, law ! ” 

“ What is the matter, ma’am ? ” 

“I know the steamer ’ll burst its boiler, or catch afire, or 
sink, or something ! I know it ! ” 

“Lord, Hannah, don’t dishearten people that-a-way! Why 
should the steamer do anything of the kind?” said Reuben, 
with a doubtful and troubled air. 

“ Because they are always and for everlasting a-doing of 
such things. Just think what happened to the ‘ Geyser ’ — 
burst her boiler and scalded everybody to death ! ” 

“ Law, Hannah ! that was only one in a 

“And the ‘Vesuvius,’” fiercely continued Hannah; “the 
‘ Vesuvius ’ caught on fire and burned down to the water’s edge, 
and was so found — a fioating charcoal, and every soul on board 
perished.” 

“ Lord, Hannah, you’re enough to make anybody’s fiesh creep. 
Surely that was only ” 

“ And then there was the ‘ Wave,’ as struck St. George’s bar 
and smashed all to pieces, and all on board were drowned ! ” 

“Well, but, Hannah, you know ” 

“ And the ‘ Boreas,’ that was lost in a gale. And the ‘ White 


Hannah’s happy prognostics. 171 

Bear/ that was jammed to smash between two icebergs. And 
the ‘Platina/ that sunk to the bottom with a clear sky and a 
smooth sea. Sunk to the bottom as if she had been so much 
lead. And the ” 

Goodness, gracious, me alive ! And the Lord bless my soul, 
Hannah! You turn my very blood to water with your stories. 
Ishmael, don’t you go I ” 

^‘Nonsense, Uncle Reuben! You know Aunt Hannah. She 
cannot help looking on the darkest side. When I was a boy, 
she was always prophesying I’d be hung, you know. Positively, 
sometimes she made me fear I might be,” said Ishmael, smiling, 
and turning an affectionate glance upon his croaking relative. 

“ Yes, it’s all very well for you to talk that way, Ishmael 
Worth. But I know one thing. I know I never heard of any 
sort of a ship going safe into port more than " v/o or three times 
in the whole course of my life. And I have heard of many and 
many a shipwreck ! ” said Hannah, nodding her head, with the 
air of one who had just uttered a knock-down ” argument. 

“Why, of course. Aunt Hannah. Because, in your remote 
country neighborhood you always hear of the wreck that hap- 
pens once in a year or in two years; but you never hear of the 
thousands upon thousands of ships that are always making safe 
voyages.” 

“ Oh, Ishmael, hush ! It won’t do. I’m not convinced. I 
don’t expect ever to see you alive again.” 

“Law, Hannah, my dear, don’t be so disbelieving. Really, 
now, you disencourage one.” ^ 

“ Hold your tongue, Reuben, you’re a fool ! I say it, and 
I stand to it, that steamer will either burst her boiler, or catch 
on fire, or sink, or something! And we shall never see our 
boy again.” 

Here little Molly, who had been attentively listening to the 
conversation, and, like the poor Desdemona, understood “a 
horror in the words,” if not the words, opened her mouth and 
set up a howl that was immediately seconded by her brother. 

It became necessary to soothe and quiet these youngsters; 
and Reuben lifted them both to his knees. 

“Why, what’s the matter with pappy’s pets, then? What’s 
all this about ? ” he inquired, tenderly stroking their heads. 

“ Cousin Ishmael is going away to be drownded ! Boo-hoo- 
woo ! ” bavvdcd Molly. 

“And be burnt up, too! Ar-r-r-r-r-r-r ! ” roared Johnny. 


172 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

“No, I am not going to be either one or the other,” said the 
subject of all this interest cheerfully, as he took the children 
from Eeuben and enthroned them on his own knees. “ I am 
going abroad for a little while, and I will bring you ever so many 
pretty things when I come back.” 

They were reassured and stopped howling. 

“ How is your doll, Molly ? ” 

“Her poor nose is broke.” 

“ I thought so. Well, I will bring you a prettier and a larger 
doll, that can open and shut its mouth and cry.” 

“ Oh-h ! ” exclaimed Molly, making great eyes in her surprise 
and delight. 

“ Now, what else shall I bring you, besides the new doll? ” 

“Another one.” 

“ What, two dolls ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Well, what else?” 

“Another one, too.” 

“Three dolls! goodness! but tell me what you would like be- 
side the three dolls ? ” 

“ Some more dolls,” persisted Molly, with her finger in her 
mouth. 

“Whew! What would you like, Johnny?” inquired Ishmael, 
smiling on the little boy. 

“ Pd like a hatchet all of my own. I want one the worst kind 
of a way,” said Johnny solemnly. 

“ Shall I bring him a little box of dwarf carpenter tools. 
Uncle Reuben?” inquired Ishmael doubtfully. 

“ Just as you please, Ishmael. He can’t do much damage 
with them inside, because Hannah is always here to watch him ; 
and he may hack and saw as much as he likes outside,” said 
Reuben. 

These points being settled, and the children not only soothed, 
but delighted, Ishmael put them off his knees and arose to de- 
part. 

He kissed the children, shook hands with Reuben and em- 
braced Hannah, whose maternal tenderness caused her to re- 
strain her emotions and forbear her croakings, lest she should 
frighten the children again. 

When he got outside he found Sam standing by the horse, 
having just given him water, and being in the act of removing 
the empty bucket. 


THE JOURNEY. 173 

Ishmael shook hands with him also, got into the saddle, and, 
amid the fervent blessings of Reuben and Hannah, recom- 
menced his journey. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE JOURNEY. 

Love, hope, and joy, fair pleasure’s smiling train; 

Hate, fear, and grief, the family of pain; 

These mixed with art and to due bounds confined, 

Make and maintain the balance of the mind; 

The lights and shades whose well-accorded strife 
Give all the strength and color to our life. 

— Pope^ 

Ishmael’s ride up to the city was, upon the whole, as much 
enjoyed as the ride down had been. It is true that, in the first 
instance, he had been going to see Bee ; and now he was coming 
away from her ; but he had passed one whole day and two pleas- 
ant evenings in her society, and he could live a long time on the 
memory of that visit. 

He soon struck into his old direct path, and calling at the 
same places where he had changed horses on his journey down, 
he re-changed them on his way up. 

At Horsehead, where he stopped to take tea, he recovered 
his favorite brown horse Jack, which was in excellent condi- 
tion and carried him swiftly the rest of the way to Washington. 

It was ten o’clock when he drew rein at the door of his 
office, dismounted, and rang. 

The professor opened the door. 

‘^Well, Morris, all right here?” was Ishmael’s cheerful 
greeting. 

“All right, sir, now that you have come. We have been a 
little anxious within the last hour or two, sir; especially the 
judge, who is here.” 

“Judge Merlin here?” 

“ Yes, sir. He came over to wait for you. And the two 
young gentlemen are also here, sir. They came back after tea. 
I heard them say to the judge they thought it quite likely you 
would have some last things to say to them to-night, and so they 
would wait.” 

“ Quite right, Morris. How take my horsq ground to the sta- 


174 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

bles and then return as fast as you can,” said Ishmael, as he 
passed the professor and entered the office. 

The judge and the two young clerks occupied it. 

The former was walking up and down the floor impatiently. 
The latter were seated at their desks. 

The judge turned quickly to greet his young friend. 

Oh, Ishmael, I am so relieved that you have come at last. 
I have been very anxious for the last few hours.” 

“ Why so, sir ? ” inquired Ishmael, as he shook hands with the 
old man. “ Did you not know that I would be punctual when 
I gave you my word to that effect ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; but there are such things as accidents, you know, 
and an accident would have been very awkward on the eve of 
a voyage. And you are late, you are late, you see ! ” 

“ Yes,” said Ishmael, as he passed on to speak to his young 
clerks and thank them for their thoughtfulness in waiting. 

Then, while divesting himself of his greatcoat, he explained 
to the judge the cause of his short delay — the detour he had 
made to bid good-by to his old friends, Hannah and Reuben. 
By the time he had done this, and seated himself, the professor 
returned from the livery stables; but he only reported the safe 
delivery of the horse and then passed through the office into 
the house. 

In a few minutes he returned, saying : 

Mr. Worth, the ladies bid me say that they had kept supper 
waiting for you, and they hope you will do them the favor to 
come in and partake of it, as it is your last evening at home for 
some time. And they will also be very much gratified if your 
friends will come and sup with you on this occasion.” 

‘^Will you come, judge? And you, too, gentlemen?” in- 
quired Ishmael, turning to his companions, who all three bowed 
assent. 

Return to the ladies and say that I thank them very much 
for their kindness, and that we will come with pleasure,” he 
said to the professor. 

And then with a smile and a bow, and a request to be ex- 
cused for a few minutes, Ishmael passed into his bedroom to 
make some little change in his toilet for the evening. 

When he rejoined his friends they went into the supper- 
room, where they found an elegant and luxurious feast laid; 
and the two fair old ladies, in their soft, plain, gray mousseline 
dresses and delicate lace caps, waiting tc do the honors. These 


THE JOURNEY. 


175 

maiden ladies, with their refinement, intelligence, and benevo- 
lence, had completely won the affections of Ishmael, who loved 
them with a filial reverence. 

There was no one else present in the room except themselves 
and a waiter. 

“ My dear Mr. Worth,” said the elder lady, approaching and 
taking his hand, we hear that you are going to Europe. How 
sudden, and how we shall miss you I But we hope that you will 
have a pleasant time.” 

“Yes, indeed!” joined in her sister, coming up to shake 
hands; “we do so! and I am sure in church, yesterday, when 
we came to that part of the litany in which we pray for ‘ all 
who travel by land or by water,’ I thought of you and bore you 
up on that prayer. And I shall continue to do it until you get 
back safe.” 

“ And so shall I,” added the elder. 

“ Thank you ! thank you ! ” said Ishmael, fervently shaking 
both their hands. “ I am sure if your good wishes and pious 
prayers can effect it, I shall have a pleasant and prosperous 
voyage.” 

“ That you will,” they simultaneously and cordially re- 
sponded. 

“And now permit me to introduce my friends: Judge Mer- 
lin, Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones.” 

The gentlemen bowqd and the ladies courtesied, and they pres- 
ently sat down to supper. The conversation turned on the pro- 
jected voyage. 

“ Judge, you will have an unexpected fellow-passenger — an 
old friend,” said Ishmael. 

“ Ah ! who is he ? ” sighed the judge, who never spoke now 
without a sigh. 

“ Mr. Brudenell is going over in the ^ Oceana.’ ” 

“ Indeed ! What takes him over ? ” 

“ I do not know ; unless it is the desire of seeing his mother 
and sisters. He did not tell me, and I did not ask him. ' In 
fact, we had so short a time together there was no opportunity.” 

“ Oh ! you have seen him ? Where did you meet him ? And 
where is he now ? ” 

“I met him at the Beacon, en route for Washington. He 
left there this morning, to embark on the ^ Errand Boy,’ which 
expects to reach the city to-morrow, in time for the express 
train Horth.” 


176 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

Ah ! coming by the ‘ Errand Boy/ is he ? That s a risk, 
under all the circumstances, for the * Errand Boy ’ is sometimes 
three or four hours behind time. And if he should miss the 
early train to-morrow morning he can never be in time to meet 
the Boston steamer, that is certain. Why couldn’t he have 
dashed up on horseback with you ? ” 

“ I fancy, sir, he was not strong enough to bear such a forced 
ride as I was obliged to undertake.” 

As it was eleven o’clock when they arose from the supper- 
table the judge almost immediately took his leave, having pre- 
viously arranged with Ishmael to join him at his hotel the next 
morning, to proceed from there to the station. 

The two young clerks remained longer, to go over certain 
documents with their employer, and receive his final instruc- 
tions. When they had departed, Ishmael went into his bed- 
room, where he found the professor waiting for him. 

At last ! ” said the latter, as his master entered. 

What, Morris, you up yet ? Do you know what time it is ? ” 
demanded Ishmael, in surprise. 

“Yes, sir; it is two o’clock in the morning.” 

“ Then you know you ought to have been in bed, hours ago.” 

“ Law, Mr. Worth — I couldn’t have slept, sir, if I had gone to 
bed. I’m rising sixty years old, but I am just as much excited 
over this voyage to England as if I was a boy of sixteen. To 
think I shall see St. Paul’s Cathedral, sir! Aint the thought 
of that enough to keep a man’s eyes open all night? And to 
think it is all through you, young Ish — Mr. Worth. If it wasn’t 
for you, I might be vegetating on, in that cabin, in old St. 
Mary’s, with no more chance of improving my mind than the 
cattle that browse around it. God bless you, sir I ” 

“Ah, professor, if at your age I have such a fresh, young, 
evergreen heart, and such an aspiring, progressive spirit as 
yours, I shall think the Lord has blessed me. But now go to 
bed, old friend, and recruit your strength for the journey. 
Though ‘ the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak,’ you know. The 
soul is immortal, but the body is perishable; so you must take 
care of it.” 

“Yes, sir, I will, just because you tell me. But I want to 
show you first what preparations I have made for the voyage, 
to see if you approve them. You see, sir, when you went off to 
St. Mary’s so sudden, and left me to pack up your clothes, it 
just struck me that there must be many things wanted on a 


THE JOUElSrEY. 


177 

sea-voyage as is not wanted on land; but of course I didn’t 
know exactly what they were. So after cogitating a while, I 
remembered that the judge had been to Europe several times, 
and would know all about it, and so I just made bold to go and 
ask him. And he told me what you would require. And I 
went and got it, sir. Please, look here,” said the professor, 
raising the lid of a trunk. 

“You are very thoughtful, Morris. You are a real help to 
me,” said Ishmael, smiling. 

“You see, here are the warm, fine, dark flannel shirts, to be 
worn instead of linen ones on the voyage. And here is a thick 
woolen scarf. And here is your sea cap. And oh, here is your 
sea suit — of coarse pepper and salt. And if you believe me, 
sir, I went and gave the order to your tailor on Saturday morn- 
ing, and told him the necessity for haste, and he sent the 
clothes home before twelve o’clock at night. I’m only afraid 
they’ll hang like a bag on you, sir, as the tailor had nothing 
but your business suit to measure them by, though, to be sure, 
the fit of a sea suit isn’t much matter, sir.” 

“ Certainly not. You are a treasure to me, Morris; but if you 
do not go to bed now and recruit your strength, my treasure 
may be endangered.” 

“I’m going now, sir; only I want to call your attention to 
the books I have put into your trunk, sir. I thought as we 
could only take a very few, I had better put in the Bible, and 
Shakspeare, and Milton, sir.” 

“ An admirable selection, Morris. Good-night, dear old 
friend.” 

“ Good-night, sir ; but please take notice I have put in a 
chess board and set of chessmen.” 

“ All right, professor. Good-night,” repeated Ishmael. 

“Yes, sir; good-night! And there’s a first-rate spy-glass, asi 
I thought you’d like to have to see distant objects.” 

“ Thank you, professoir. Good-night ! ” reiterated Ishmael, 
scarcely able to restrain his laughter. 

“ Good-night, sir. And there’s some — ^well, I see you’re 
laughing at me.” 

“No, no, professor! or, if I was, it was in sympathy and 
pleasure; not in derision — Heaven forbid! Your boyish inter- 
est in this voyage is really charming to me, professor. But you 
must retire, old friend; indeed you must. You know we will 
have plenty of time to look over these things when we get on 


17S selF'Kaised; or, from the depths. 

board the steamer,” said Ishmael, taking the old man’s hand, 
cordially shaking it, and resolutely dismissing him to rest. 

And Ishmael himself retired to bed and to sleep, and being 
very much fatigued with his long ride, he slept soundly until 
morning. 

Though the professor was too much excited by the thoughts 
of his voyage to sleep much, yet he was up with the earliest 
dawn of morning, moving about softly in his master’s room, 
strapping down the trunks and laying out traveling clothes 
and toilet apparatus. 

The kind old maiden ladies also bestirred themselves earlier 
than usual this morning, that their young favorite should en- 
joy one more comfortable breakfast before he left. 

And so when Ishmael was dressed and had just dispatched 
the professor to the stand to engage a hack to take them to the 
station, and while he was thinking of nothing better in the 
way of a morning meal than the weak, muddy coffee and ques- 
tionable bread and butter of the railway restaurant, he re- 
ceived a summons to the dining room, where he found his two 
hostesses presiding over a breakfast of Mocha coffee, hot rolls, 
buckwheat cakes, poached eggs, broiled salmon, stewed oysters, 
and roast partridges. 

Our young man had a fine healthy appetite of his own, and 
could enjoy this repast as well as any epicure alive; but better 
than all to his affectionate heart was the motherly kindness 
that had brought these two delicate old ladies out of their beds 
at this early hour to give him a breakfast. 

They had their reward in seeing how heartily he ate. There 
was no one at the table but himself and themselves; and they 
pressed the food upon him, reminding him how long a journey 
he would have to make before he could sit down to another 
comfortable meal. 

And when Ishmael had breakfasted and thanked them, and re- 
turned to his rooms to tie up some last little parcels, they 
called in the professor, who had now come back, and they plied 
him with all the luxuries on the breakfast table. 

And when to their great satisfaction the old man had made 
an astonishing meal and risen from the table, they beckoned 
him mysteriously aside and gave a well-filled hamper into his 
charge, saying: 

‘^You know, professor, it is a long journey from Washing- 
ton to Boston, and in going straight through you can’t get any- 


THE JOURNEY. 


179 

thing fit to eat on the road ; and so we have packed this hamper 
for your master. There’s ham sandwiches and chicken pie, 
and roast partridges and fried oysters, and French rolls and 
celery, and plenty of pickles and pepper and salt and things. 
And I have put in some plates and knives and napkins, all 
comfortable.” 

The professor thanked them heartily on the part of his mas- 
ter; and took the hamper immediately to the hack that was 
standing before the door. 

Ishmael had already caused the luggage to be carried out 
and placed on the hack, and now nothing remained to be done 
hut to take leave of the two old ladies. He shook hands with 
them affectionately, and they blessed him fervently. And as 
soon as he had got into the hack and it had driven off with him, 
they turned aod clasped each other around the neck and cried. 

Truly Ishmael’s good qualities had made him deeply beloved. 

When the hack reached the hotel, Ishmael found Judge Mer- 
lin, all greatcoated and shawled, walking up and down before 
the door with much impatience. His luggage had been brought 
down. 

“ You see I am in time, judge.” 

“Yes, Ishmael. Good-morning. I was afraid you would not 
be, however. I was afraid you would oversleep yourself after 
your hard ride. But have you breakfasted ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! My dear old friends were up before day to have 
breakfast with me.” 

“I tell you what, Ishmael, they are really two charming old 
ladies, and if ever I get right again and spend another winter 
in this city, I will try to get them to take me to board. They 
would make a home for a man,” ,said the judge. 

While they were talking the porters were busy putting Judge 
Merlin’s luggage upon Ishmael’s hack. 

“You have not heard whether the ‘Errand Boy’* has reached 
the wharf ? ” inquired Ishmael. 

“Hot a word. There has been no arrival here this morning 
from any quarter, as I understand from the head waiter.” 

“ I am really afraid Mr. Brudenell will miss the train.” 

“ If he does he will miss the voyage also. But we must not 
risk such a misfortune. Get in, boy, get in ! ” said the judge, 
hastily entering the hack. 

Ishmael followed his example. The professor climbed up to a 
seat beside the driver and the hack moved off. They reached 


180 SELF-RAISJi:D ; OK, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

the railway station just in time. In fact they had not a moment 
to lose. 

They had just got seated in the cars, and were expecting the 
signal whistle to shriek out every instant, when Ishmael, who 
was seated nearest the window, saw a gentleman in a great- 
coat, and with his shawl over his arm, and his umbrella and hat- 
box in his hand, hurrying frantically past. 

“ There is Mr. Brudenell now ! ” he exclaimed with pleasure, 
as he tapped upon the window to attract that gentleman’s at- 
tention. 

Mr. Brudenell looked up, nodded quickly, and darted on, 
and the next moment hurried in at the end door of the car 
and came down to them just as the signal whistle shrieked out 
and the train started. 

Ishmael reserved the seat in front of himself and the judge, 
and invited Mr. Brudenell to take it. 

The latter gentleman dropped into his place and then held 
out his hand to greet his fellow-passengers. 

“ So you are going with us to England. I am very glad of 
it,” said the judge, though in fact he looked very pale and worn, 
as if he never could be glad again in this world. 

Yes,” said Mr. Brudenell, “ I am very glad indeed to be of 
your party. Good-morning, Worth!” 

“Good-morning, sir! You were very fortunate to catch the 
train.” 

“Very! I was within half a minute of missing it. I had 
a run for it, I assure you.” 

“ I beg your pardon, sir ! Have you breakfasted ? ” here in- 
quired the professor, in all the conscious importance of carry- 
ing a hamper. 

“Ah, professor! how do you do? You are never going to 
Europe ? ” exclaimed Mr. Brudenell, in surprise. 

“Yes, sir. I go wherever my master leads, sir. Mr. Worth 
and his humble servant will never be separated till death do 
them part. But about your breakfast, sir ? ” 

“ Why, truly, no, I have not breakfasted, unless a cup of sus- 
picious-looking liquid called coffee, drunk at the railway table, 
could be called breakfast.” 

The professor sat his hamper on his knees, opened it, and 
began to reveal its hidden treasures. 

Ishmael laughed, expressed his surprise, and inc^uired of 
Horris what cook shop he patronized. 


THE JOURNEY. 


181 


And then the professor explained the kind forethought of the 
old ladies who had provided these luxuries for his journey. 

‘‘ I declare I will live with them if they will let me, if ever I 
spend another winter in Washington! One could enjoy what 
is so often promised, so seldom given — ‘ the comforts of a 
home’ — with those old ladies,” said the judge fervently. 

Mr. Brudenell made a very satisfactory meal off half a dozen 
^French rolls, a roasted partridge and a bottle of claret. And 
then while he was wiping his mouth and the professor was re- 
packing the hamper and throwing the waste out of the window. 
Judge Merlin turned to Mr. Brudenell, and, with an old man’s 
freedom, inquired: 

“ Pray, sir, may I ask, what procures us the pleasure — and it 
is indeed a great pleasure — of your company across the water ? ” 

A shade of the deepest gri-ef and mortification fell over the 
face of Herman Brudenell, as bending his head to the ear of 
his questioner, and speaking in a low voice, he replied: 

“ Family matters, of so painful and humiliating a nature as 
not to be discussed in a railway car, or scarcely anywhere else, 
in fact.” 

Pardon me,” said the judge, speaking in the same low tone ; 

some malignant star must reign. Had you asked the same 
question of me, concerning the motives of my journey, I might 
have truly answered you in the very same words.” 

And the old man groaned deeply; while Ishmael silently 
wondered what the family matters could be of which Mr. 
Brudenell spoke. 

A modern railway journey is without incident or adventure 
worth recording, unless it be an occasional disastrous collision. 
Ho such calamity befell this train. Our travelers talked, dozed, 
eat, and drank a little through their twenty-four hours’ jour- 
ney. At noon they reached Philadelphia, at eve Hew York, at 
at midnight Springfield, and the next morning Boston. 

It was just sunrise as they arose and stretched their weary 
limbs and left the train. They had but an hour to spare to go 
to a hotel and refresh themselves with a bath, a change of 
clothes, and a breakfast before it was time to go on board their 
steamer. 

They were the last passengers on board. Fortunately, at 
this season of the year there are comparatively but few voy- 
agers. The best staterooms in the first cabin, to use a com- 
mon phrase, ‘^went a-begging.” 



THE VOYAGE. 


183 


until the dimly diversified boundary faded into a faint irregu- 
lar blue line; then until it vanished. Only then they left the 
deck and went down into the cabin to explore their staterooms. 

Ishmael found the professor, who had gone down a few 
minutes before him, busy unpacking his master’s sea trunk, 
and getting him, as he said : 

“ Comfortably to housekeeping for the next two weeks.” 

When Ishmael entered the professor was just in the act of 
setting up the three books that comprised the sea library, care- 
fully arranging them on a tiny circular shelf in the comer. 
One of the stateroom stewards who stood watching the “ land- 
lubber’s” operations sarcastically said: 

‘^How long, friend, do you expect them books to stand 
there?” 

Until my master takes them down, sir,” politely answered 
the professor. 

“Well, now, they’ll stand there maybe until we get out 
among the big waves; when, at the first lurch of the ship, down 
they’ll tumble upon somebody’s head.” 

“ ‘ Sufficient unto the day ’ ” said the professor, perse- 

vering in his housekeeping arrangements. 

All that day there was nothing to threaten the equilibrium 
of the books. A splendid first day’s sail they had. The sky 
was clear and bright; the sea serene and sparkling; the wind 
fresh and fair ; and the motion of the steamer smooth and swift. 
Our travelers, despite the care at the bottom of their hearts, 
enjoyed it immensely. Who, with a remnant of hope remain- 
ing to them, can fail to sympathize with the beauty, glory, and 
rapture of Nature in her best moods? 

At dinner they feasted with such good appetites as to call 
forth a jocose remark from a fellow-passenger who seemed to 
be an experienced voyager. He proved, in fact, to be a retired 
sea-captain, who was making this voyage partly for business, 
partly for pleasure. He was an unusually tall and stout old 
gentleman, with a stately carriage, a full, red face, and gray 
hair and beard. 

“That is right. Go it while you’re well, friends! For in 
all human probability this is the last comfortable meal you will 
enjoy for many a day,” he said. 

Those whom he addressed looked up in surprise and smiled 
in doubt. 

The splendid sunny day was followed by a brilliant starlight 


184 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

night, in which all the favorable circumstances of the voyage, 
so far, continued. 

After tea the passengers went on deck to enjoy the beauty 
of the evening. 

“ What do you think. Captain Mountz ? ” inquired a gentle- 
man, “ will this fair wind continue long ? ” 

“What the deuce is the wind to me? Fm a passenger,” re- 
sponded the irresponsible retired captain. 

They remained on deck enjoying the starlit glory of the sea 
and sky until a late hour, when, fatigued and sleepy, they went 
below and sought their berths. To new voyagers there is in 
the first night at sea something so novel, so wild, so weird, so 
really unearthly, that few, if any, can sleep. They have left 
the old, still, safe land far behind, and are out in the dark 
upon the strange, unstable, perilous sea. It is a new element, 
a new world, a new life; and the novelty, the restlessness, and 
even the dangers, have a fascination that charms the imagina- 
tion and banishes repose. A few voyages cure one of these 
fancies; but this is how a novice feels. 

And thus it was with Ishmael. Fatigued as he was, he lay 
awake in his berth, soothed by the motion of the vessel and the 
sound of the sea, until near morning, when at length he fell 
into a deep sleep. It was destined to be a brief one, however. 

Soon every passenger was waked up by the violent rolling 
and tossing of the ship; the creaking and groaning of the rig- 
ging; the howling and shrieking of the wind, and the rising 
and falling of the waves. , 

All the brave and active passengers tumbled up out of their 
berths and dressed quickly, while the timid and indolent cow- 
ered under their sheets and waited the issue. 

Ishmael was among the first on deck. Day was dawning. 

Here all hands were on the alert: the captain swearing his 
orders as fast as they could be obeyed. One set of men were 
rapidly taking in sail. Another set were seeing to the life 
boats. The sea was running mountains high; the ship rolling 
fearfully; the wind so fierce that Ishmael could scarcely stand. 

He saw old Captain Mountz on deck, and appealed to him. 

“We are likely to have a heavy gale? ” 

“ Oh, a capful of wind ! Only a capful of wind ! ” contempt- 
uously replied that “old salt,” who, by the way, through the 
whole of the tempestuous voyage could not be induced to ac- 
knowledge that they had had a single gale worth noticing. 


THE VOYAGE. 


185 

But the wind increased in violence and the sea arose in 
wrath, and to battle they went, with their old irreconcilable 
hatred. And yet, notwithstanding the fury of wind and wave, 
the sun arose upon a perfectly clear sky. 

Ishmael remained on deck watching the fierce warring of the 
elements until the second breakfast bell rung, when he went 
below. 

Neither Judge Merlin nor Mr. Brudenell was at the break- 
fast table. In fact there was no one in the saloon, except Cap- 
tain Mountz and two or three other seasoned old voyagers. 

The remainder of the passengers were all dreadfully ill in 
their berths. The prediction of the old captain was fulfilled 
in their cases at least; they had eaten the last comfortable 
meal they could enjoy for many days. 

As soon as Ishmael had eaten his breakfast he went below in 
search of the companions of his voyage. 

He found the judge lying flat on his back, with his hands 
clasping his temples, and praying only to be let alone. 

The stateroom steward was standing over him, bullying him 
with a cup of black tea, which he insisted upon his taking, 
whether or no. 

“ If he drinks it, sir, he will have something to throw up ; 
which will be better for him than all this empty retching. 
And after he has thrown up he will be all right, and be able to 
get up and eat his breakfast and go on deck,” said the man, ap- 
pealing to Ishmael. 

“ Ishmael, kick that rascal out of my room, and break his 
neck and throw him overboard!” cried the judge, in anguish 
and desperation. 

Friend, don’t you know better than to exasperate a sea- 
sick man? Leave him to me until he is better,” said Ishmael, 
smiling on the well-meaning steward. 

“But, sir, if he would drink this tea he would throw up 
and ” 

“ Ishmael, will you strangle that diabolical villain and pitch 
him into the sea ? ” thundered the judge. 

The “ diabolical villain ” raised his disengaged hand in depre- 
cation and withdrew, carrying the cup of tea in the other. 

“ And now, Ishmael, take yourself off, and leave me in peace. 
I hate you ! and I loathe the whole human race ! ” 

Ishmael left the stateroom, meditating on the demoralizing 
nature of seasickness. 


186 self-kaised; ok, from the depths. 

He next visited Mr. Brudenell, whom he found in a paroxysm 
of illness, with another stateroom steward holding the basin 
for him. 

“ Ugh ! ugh ! ugh ! ” moaned the victim. This heaving, ris- 
ing, falling sea! And this reeling, pitching, tossing ship! 
If it would only stop for one moment ! I should be glad of any- 
thing that would stop it — even a fire ! ” 

‘‘ I am sorry to see you suffering so much, sir ! Can I 
do anything for you?’’ inquired Ishmael sympathetically. 

Ugh ! ugh ! ugh ! Ho ! Hold the basin for me again. Bob ! 
Ho, Ishmael, you can do nothing for me! only do go away! I 
hate anyone to see me in this debasing sickness! for it is de- 
basing, Ishmael ! Ugh ! the basin. Bob ! quick ! ” 

Ishmael backed out in double-quick time. 

And next he found his way to the second cabin, to the bed- 
side of the professor. 

Apparently Jim Morris had just suffered a very severe 
paroxysm ; for he lay back on his pillow with pale, sharp, sunken 
features and almost breathless lungs. 

am sorry to see you so ill, professor,” said Ishmael ten- 
derly, laying his hand on the old man’s forehead. 

“ It is nothing, Mr. Ishmael, sir, only a little seasickness, as 
all the passengers have. I dare say it will soon be over. I am 
only concerned because I can’t come and wait on you,” said 
the professor, speaking faintly, and with a great effort. 

Hever mind that, dear qld friend. I can wait on myself 
very well; and on you, too, while you need attention.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Ishmael, sir! You are much too kind; but I shall 
be all right in a little time, and am so glad you are not sick, 
too.” 

“Ho; I am not sick, Morris. But I am afraid that you have 
been suffering very much,” said Ishmael, as he noticed the old 
man’s pallid countenance. 

“ Oh, no, Mr. Ishmael ! Don’t disturb yourself. I shall be 
better soon. You see, when I was very bad they persuaded me 
to drink a pint of sea-water, which really made me much worse, 
though it was all well meant. But now I am better. And I 
think I will try to get up on deck. Why, law, seasickness aint 
pleasant, to be sure; but then it is worth while to bear it for 
the sake of crossing the sea and beholding the other hemi- 
sphere,” said Jim Morris, trying to smile over his own illnew. 
and Ishmael’s commiseration. 


THE VOYAGE. 


187 


God bloss you, for a patient, gentle-spirited old man and a 
true philosopher I When you are able to rise, Morris, I will 
give you my arm up on deck and have a pallet made for you 
there, and the fresh air will do you good.” 

“ Thank you, thank you, Mr. Ishmael ! It is good to be ill 
when one is so kindly cared for. Isn’t there a gale, sir?” 

“Yes, Morris, a magnificent one! The old enemies, wind 
and sea, are in their most heroic moods, and are engaged in a 
pitched battle. This poor ship, like a neutral power, is suffer- 
ing somewhat from the assaults of both.” 

“ I think I will go and look on that battlefield,” smiled the 
professor, trying to rise. 

Ishmael helped him, and when he was dressed gave him his 
arm and took him up on deck, at the same time requesting one 
of the second-cabin stewards to follow with a rug and cushion. 

This man, wondering at the affectionate attention paid by 
the stately young gentleman to his sick servant, followed them 
up and made the professor a pallet near the wheel-house, on the 
deck. 

When, with the assistance of the steward, Ishmael had made 
his old retainer comfortable, he placed himself with his shoul- 
ders against the back of the wheel-house to steady himself, for 
the ship was rolling terribly, and he stood gazing forth upon 
tiie stormy surface of the sea. 

A magnificent scene! The whole ocean, from the central 
speck on which he stood to the vast, vanishing circle of the 
horizon, seemed one boundless, boiling caldron. Millions of 
waves were simultaneously leaping in thunder from the abyss 
and rearing themselves into blue mountain peaks, capped with 
white foam, and sparkling in the sunlight for a moment, to be 
swallowed up in the darkness of the roaring deep the next. A 
lashing, tossing, heaving, foaming, glancing rise and fall of 
liquid mountains and valleys, awful, but ravishing, to look on. 

Ishmael stood leaning against the wheel-house, with his arms 
folded and his eyes gazing out at sea. His whole soul was 
exalted to reverence and worship, and he murmured within 
himself : 

“ It is the Lord that commandeth the waters ; it is the glorious 
God that maketh the thunder! 

“ It is the Lord that ruLth the sea ; the voice of the Lord is 
mighty in operation ; the voice of the Lord is a glorious voice ! ” 

As for the professor, he lay propped up at his master’s feet, 


188 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

and looking forth upon the mighty war of wind and wave. 
The sight had subdued him. He was content only to exist 
and enjoy. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE STORM. 

Colder and louder blew the wind, 

A gale from the northeast; 

The snow fell hissing in the brine; 

And the billows foamed like yeast. " 

Down came the storm and smote amain, 

The vessel in its strength; 

She shuddered and paused like a frightened steed, 

Then leaped her cable’s length. 

And fast through the midnight, dark and drear, 

Through the whistling sleet and snow, 

Like a sheeted ghost the vessel swept, 

Toward the reef of Norman’s Woe. 

— Wreck of the “ Hesperusy 

Ishmael remained upon the quarterdeck, gazing out upon 
the stormy glory of the sea and sky until he was interrupted 
by the most prosaic, though the most welcome of sounds — that 
of the dinner-bell. 

Then he went below. 

On his way to the saloon he stopped at the entrance of the 
second cabin; called one of the stewards, and while putting a 
piece of money in his hand, requested him to take a bowl of 
soup up to the old man on deck, and to see that he wanted 
nothing. 

Then Ishmael paid a visit to each of his suffering com- 
panions. 

First he opened the door of Judge Merlin^s stateroom, and 
found that gentleman with his face sulkily turned to the wall, 
and in a state of body and mind so ill and irritable as to make 
all attempts at conversation with him quite dangerous to the 
speaker. 

Next Ishmael looked in upon Mr. Brudenell, whom he luckily 
found fast asleep. And then, after having given the state- 
room stewards a strict charge concerning the comfort of these 
two victims, Ishmael passed on to the dining saloon. It wag 


THE STOEM. 189 

nearly empty. There were even fewer people gathered for din- 
ner than there had been for breakfast. 

The tables had the storm-guards upon them, so that each 
plate and dish sat down in its own little pen to be kept from 
slipping off in the rolling of the ship. But this arrangement 
could not prevent them from occasionally flying out of their 
places when there was an unusually violent toss. 

At the table where Ishmael sat there was no one present ex- 
cept the old retired merchantman, Captain Mountz, who sat 
on the opposite side, directly under the port lights. And with 
the rolling of the ship these two diners, holding desper- 
ately onto the edge of the table, were tossed up and down like 
boys on a see-saw plank. 

The mingled noise of wind and wave and ship was so deafen- 
ing as to make conversation difficult and nearly impossible. 
And yet Ishmael and the captain seemed to feel in courtesy 
compelled to bawl at each other across the table as they see- 
sawed up and down. , 

“ The gale seems to have knocked down all our fellow passffi- 
gers and depopulated our saloon,” cried Ishmael, soaring up to 
the sky with his side of the table. 

“Yes, sir, yes, sir; a lot of land-lubbers, sir; a lot of lubbers, 
sir! Gale? N^othing but a capful of wind, sir! Nothing but 
a capful of wind ! ” roared the captain, sinking down to the 
abyss on his side of the table. 

Here the steward, seizing a favorable moment, deftly served 
them with soup. And nothing but the utmost tact and skill 
in marine legerdemain enabled this functionary to convey the 
soup from the tureen to the plates. And when there, it re- 
quired all the attention and care of the diners to get it from 
plate to lip. And, after all, more than half of it was spilled. 

“ Thank goodness, that is over ! The solids won’t give us 
so much trouble,” said the captain, handing his empty plate 
to the steward. 

The second course was served. But the motion of the ship 
increased so much in violence that the two diners were com- 
pelled to hold still more flrmly on to the edge of the table with 
one hand, while they ate with the other, as they were tossed 
up and down. 

“ You’re a good sailor, sir ! ” bawled the captain as he pitched 
down out of sight. 

“ Yes, thank Hedven ! ” shouted Ishmael, flying up. 


190 SELF-EAISED; OE, FEOM the DEPTHa 

Then came a tremendous lurch of the ship. 

Oh, I must see that wave ! ” cried the captain, imprudently 
climbing up to look out from the port-light above him. 

He had scarcely attained the desired position when there 
came another, an unprecedented toss of the ship, and the un- 
lucky captain lay sprawling on the top of the table — with one 
wide-flung hand deep in the dish of mashed turnips and the 
other grasping the roast pig, while his bullet head was butted 
into Ishmael’s stomach. 

“ Blast the ship ! ” cried the discomflted old man — very un- 
necessarily, since there was “ blast ” enough, and to spare. 

“ ^ Only a capful of wind,^ captain ! ^ Only a capful of 

wind,^ ” said Ishmael, in a grave, matter-of-fact way, as he 
carefully assisted the veteran to rise. 

“Humph! humph! humph! I might have known you would 
have said that. Ha! glad none of the women are here to see 
me! I s’pose I’ve done for the mashed turnips and roast pig; 
and I shouldn’t wonder if I had knocked your breath out of 
your body, too, sir,” sputtered the old man, trying to recover 
his feet, a difficult matter amid the violent pitching of the ship. 

“ Oh, you’ve not hurt me the least,” said Ishmael, still ren- 
dering him all the assistance in his power. 

But this mishap put an end to the dinner. Bor the captain’s 
toilet sadly needed renovating, and the table required putting 
right. 

Ishmael went up on deck — a nearly impossible feat for any 
landsman, even for one so strong and active as Ishmael was, 
to accomplish with safety to life and limb, for the ship was 
now fearfully pitched from side to side, and wallowing among 
the leaping waves. 

High as the wind was — blowing now a hurricane — the sky 
was perfectly clear, and the sun was near its setting. 

Ishmael found his old servant sitting propped up against 
the back of the wheel-house, looking out at one of the most 
glorious of all the glorious sights in nature — sunset at sea. 

“ As soon as the sun has set you must go down and turn in, 
Morris. The wind is increasing, and it is no longer safe for 
a landsman like you to remain up here,” said his master. 

“Mr. Ishmael, sir, you must just leave me up here to my 
fate. As to getting me down now, that is impossible; I no- 
ticed that it took both your hands, as well as both your feet, 
to help yourself up,” replied the professor. 


THE STOKM, 


191 


What ! do you mean to stay on deck all night ? ” 

“ I see no help for it, sir ; I should be pitched downstairs 
and have my neck broken, or be washed into the sea and get 
drowned, by any attempt to go below.” 

“Nonsense, Morris; the sun has gone down now; follow his 
example. I will take you safely,” said Ishmael, offering his arm 
to the old man in that kind, but peremptory, way that admitted 
of no denial. 

A sailor near at hand came forward and offered his assist- 
ance. And between the two the professor was safely taken 
down to the second cabin and deposited in his berth. 

A German Jew, who shared the professor’s stateroom, saw 
the party coming, and exclaimed to a fellow-passenger: 

“ Tere’s tat young shentleman mit his olt man again. Fader 
Abraham ! he ish von shentleman ; von drue shentleman ! ” 

“ A ^ true gentleman,’ I believe you, Isaacs. Why, don’t 
you know who he is? He is that German prince they’ve been 
making such a fuss over, in the States. I saw his name in the 
list of passengers. Prince — Prince Edward of — of Hesse — 
Hesse something or other, I forget. They are all Hesses or 
Saxes up there,” said his interlocutor. 

“ No, no,” objected th® Jew. “ Dish ish nod he. I know 
Prince Etwart ven I see him. He ish von brince, but nod von 
shentleman. He svears ad hish mens.” 

The near approach of the subject of this conversation pre- 
vented farther personal remarks. But when Ishmael had seen 
his old follower comfortably in bed, the Jew turned to him and, 
as it would seem, for the simple pleasure of speaking to the 
young man whom he admired so much, said: 

“ Zir, te zhip rollts mush. Tere vill pe a gread pig storm.” 

“ I think so,” answered Ishmael courteously. 

“ Veil, if zhe goesh down do te boddom tere vill pe von lesh 
drue shentleman in de vorlt, zir. Ant tat vill be you.” 

“ Thank you,” said Ishmael, smiling. 

“ Ant tere vill pe von lesh Sherman Shew in te vorlt. Ant 
tat vill pe me.” 

“ Oh, I hope there is n® danger of such a calamity. Good- 
night ! ” said Ishmael, smiling upon his admirer and with- 
drawing from the cabin. 

Ishmael took tea with the old captain, who came into the 
saloon and sat doAvn in a perfectly renovated toilet, as if noth- 
ing had happened. 


192 self-eaised; oe, feo^i the depths. 

But when I say they took tea, I mean that they took quite 
as much of it up their sleeves and down their bosoms as into 
their mouths. Drinking tea in a rolling ship is a sloppy opera- 
tion. 

After that the captain produced a chess-board, ingeniously 
arranged for sea-service, and the two gentlemen spent the even- 
ing in a mimic warfare that ended in a drawn battle. 

“ The gale seems to be subsiding. The motion of the ship 
has not been so violent for the last half hour, I think,’^ said 
Ishmael, as they arose from the table. 

“No; if it had been, we could not have played chess, even 
on this boxed board,” was the reply. 

“I hope we shall have fine weather now. What do you say, 
captain ? ” 

“I say as I said before. I am a passenger, and the weather 
is nothing to me. But if you expect we are going to have fine 
weather because the wind has lulled — ^humph ! ” 

“We shall not, then?” 

“We shall have a twister, that is what we shall have — and 
before many hours. And I shouldn’t wonder if we had a storm 
of snow and sleet to cap off with. Good-night, sir ! ” And with 
this consoling prophecy the old man withdrew. 

Ishmael went to his berth and slept soundly until morning. 
When he awoke he found the ship rolling, pitching, tossing, 
leaping, falling, and fairly writhing and twisting like a living 
creature in mortal agony. 

He fell out of his berth, pitched into his clothes, slopped his 
face and hands, raked his hair, and tumbled on deck. In other 
words, by sleight of hand and foot, he made a sea-toilet and 
went up. 

What a night! 

The sky black as night; the sea lashed into a foam as white 
as snow ; the waves running mountain high from south to north ; 
the wind blowing a hurricane from east to west; the ship sub- 
jected to this cross action, pitching onward in semicircular 
jerks, deadly sickening to see and feel. 

“I suppose this is what you call a twister,’” said Ishmael, 
reeling towards the old captain, who was already on deck. 

“Yes; just as I told you! You see that gale blew from the 
south for about forty-eight hours and got the sea up running 
north. And then, before the sea had time to subside, the wind 
chopped round and now blows from due east. And the ship is 


THE STORM. 193 

rolled frcym side to side by the waves and tossed from stem to 
stern by the wind. And between the two actions she is regu- 
larly twisted, and that is the reason why the sailors call this 
sort of thing a ‘ twister.’ And this is not the worst of it. This 
east wind will be sure to blow up a snowstorm. We shall have 
it on the Banks.” 

“ This has gone beyond a gale. I should call this a hurri- 
cane,” said Ishmael. 

“Hurricane? hurricane? Bless you, sir, no, sir! capful of 
wind ! capful of wind 1 ” said the old man doggedly. 

Nevertheless Ishmael noticed that the ship’s captain looked 
anxious and gave his orders in short, peremptory tones. 

The predicted snowstorm did not come on during that short 
winter’s day, however. The “ twister ” “ twisted ” vigorously ; 
twisted the ship nearly in two; twdsted the souls, or rather the 
stomachs, nearly out of the bodies of the seasick victims. Even 
the well-pickled “ old salt,” Captain Mountz, felt uncomfort- 
able. And it was just as much as Ishmael could do to keep him- 
self up and avoid succumbing to illness. Those two were the 
last of the passengers that attempted to keep up. And they were 
very glad when night came and gave them an excuse for re- 
tiring. 

The predicted snowstorm came on about midnight. When 
Ishmael dressed and struggled out of his stateroom in the morn- 
ing, he found it just the nearest thing to an impossibility to 
go up on deck. The wind was still blowing a hurricane; the 
sea leaping in the wildest waves ; the ship pitching, tossing, and 
jerking as before; and in addition to all this, the snow was 
falling thick and fast, and freezing as it fell, and every part of 
the deck and rigging was covered with a slippery, shining coat- 
ing of ice. 

Those who find it dangerous to walk on a motionless pave- 
ment in sleety weather may now imagine what is was to climb 
the ice-sheathed steps of this pitching ship. 

Ishmael managed to get up on deck somehow; but he found 
the place deserted of all except the man at the wheel and the 
officer of the watch. Even the old sea lion. Captain Mountz, 
was among the missing. 

There was little to be seen. He stood on the deck of a tossing 
ship of ice, in the midst of a high wind, a boiling sea, and a 
storm of snow; he could not discern an object a foot in advance 
of him. 


194 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

And so, after a few words with the well-wrapped-up officer 
of the watch, he went below to look after the companions of 
his voyage. 

Judge Merlin and Mr. Brudenell, like^all the other passen- 
gers, were so ill as still to hate the sight of a human being. 

Leaving them in the care of the stateroom steward, Ishmael 
went to see after his old retainer. The professor was up, 
clothed, and in his right mind. 

You see I made an effort, Mr. Ishmael, sir, and a success- 
ful one, so far as getting on my feet was concerned. When 
I woke up this morning it occurred to me, like a reproach, that 
I had come with you, sir, to wait on you and not to be waited on 
by you — ^which latter arrangement was a sort of turning things 
topsy-turvy ” 

ding sho doo,” interrupted the German Jew, whose name 
was Isaacs. 

“ And so,” continued the professor, “ I made an effort to get 
up and do my duty, and I find myself much better for it.” 

“ I am glad you are well enough to be up, Morris, but indeed, 
you need have suffered no twinges of conscience on my ac- 
count,” said Ishmael, smiling. 

“I know your kindness, sir, and that makes it more incum- 
bent on me to do my duty by you. Well, sir. I’ve been to your 
stateroom; but finding you gone, and everything dancing a 
hornpipe there, I tried to get up on deck to you, but there, sir, 
I failed. And, besides, while I was doing my best, a stout old 
gentleman, a sea captain I take him to be, blasted my eyes, and 
ordered me to go below and not break my blamed neck. And 
so I did.” 

“ That was Captain Mountz. He meant you well, Morris. 
You did quite right to obey him.” 

Soon after this Ishmael went to his stateroom, took a vol- 
ume of Shakspere, and then ensconsed himself in a corner of 
the saloon, where he sat and read until dinner-time. 

The progress of the steamer was very slow. The day passed 
heavily. And again when night came everyone was glad to 
go to bed and to sleep. 


THE WKECK. 


195 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE WRECK. 

And ever the fitful gusts between 
A sound came from the land; 

It was the sound of the tramping surf, 

On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. 

The breakers were right beneath her bows, . 

She drifted a dreary wreck, 

And a whooping billow swept the crew 
Like icicles from her deck. 

She struck where the white and fleecy waves 
Looked soft as carded wool, 

But the cruel rocks, they gored her sides, 

Like the horns of an angry bull. 

— Wreck of the Hesperus.'* 

When Ishmael awoke in the morning he was surprised to 
find that the motion of the ship was much lessened. And when 
he went up on deck he was pleased to discover that the wind 
had fallen and the sea was going down. 

There was but one trouble — the thick fog; but that might 
be expected on the Banks of Newfoundland. 

Old Captain Mountz was pacing up and down the deck with 
the firm tread of a man who felt himself on solid ground. 

Good-moming, captain ! A pleasant change this,” was 
IshmaeFs greeting. 

“ Oh, aye, yes ! for as long as it will last,” was the dampening 
reply. 

“ Why, you donT think the wind will rise again, do you ? ” 
DonT I ? I tell you before many hours we shall have a 
strong souVester, that will do its best to drive us ashore on 
these Banks,” was the discouraging answer. 

But by this time Ishmael had grown to understand the old 
sailor, and to know that he generally talked by the rules of 
contrary”; for whereas he would not permit the late gale 
to be anything more than a “ capful of wind,” he now declared 
the fine weather to bo nothing less than the forerunner of a 
hurricane. 

So Ishmael did not feel any very serious misgivings, but 
went downstairs to breakfast with a good appetite. 

Here another pleasant surprise greeted him: Judge Merlin 


196 


self-raised; or, from the depths. 

and Mr. Brudenell, recovered from their seasickness, were both 
at breakfast; and notwithstanding the weight of care that 
oppressed their hearts they were both, from the mere physical 
reaction from depressing illness, in excellent spirits. 

They arose to greet their young friend. 

“How do you do, how do you do, Ishmael?” began Judge 
Merlin, heartily shaking his hand. “ I really suppose now that 
you think I owe you an apology? But the fact is you owe me 
one. Didn’t you know better than to intrude on the privacy 
of a seasick man ? Didn’t you know that a victim hates the sight 
of one who is not a victim? And that a seasick man or a 
rabid dog is better let alone, eh ? ” 

“ I beg your pardon, sir ; I did not know it ; but now that you 
enlighten me, I will not offend again,” laughed Ishmael. 

Mr. Brudenell’s greeting was quieter, but even more cordial 
than that of the judge. 

Before breakfast was over they were joined by others of 
their fellow-passengers, whom they had not seen since the 
first day out. 

Among the rest was a certain Dr. Kerr, a learned savant, 
professor in the University of Glasgow, who had been on a 
scientific mission to the United States, and was returning 
home. He was a tall, thin old gentleman, in a long, black vel- 
vet dressing-gown and a round, black velvet skullcap. And he 
entered readily into conversation with our party on the subject 
of the late gales, and from that diverged into the subject of 
meteorology. There were no ladies present at breakfast. 

The whole party soon adjourned to the deck, and notwith- 
standing the fog, enjoyed the pleasure of a promenade and con- 
versation as they only can who have been deprived of such 
privileges for many days. 

At dinner the long absent ladies reappeared ; among the rest, 
the wife and daughters of the Scotch professor; and with the 
freedom of ocean steamer traveling, all well-dressed and well- 
behaved first-cabin passengers soon became acquainted and 
sociable, if not intimate. 

Mrs. Dr. Kerr had happened to hear of Mr. Worth as one of 
the most promising young barristers of the time; and finding 
him in the company of Chief Justice Merlin, and approving 
him on short acquaintance, and knowing that he was unmar- 
ried, and not knowing that his heart, hand, and honor were 
irretrievably engaged, she singled him out as a very desirable 


m 


i 


THE WRECK. 


197 


match for one of her four penniless daughters, and paid such 
court to him as Ishmael, in the honesty and gratitude of his 
heart, repaid with every attention. 

Mrs. Dr. Kerr, complaining of the tediousness of the 
voyage, and the dullness of her own circle, invited Ishmael and 
his party to spend the evening and play whist in the ladies’ 
cabin — forbidden ground to all gentlemen who had no ladies 
with them, unless indeed they should happen, as in this case, 
to be invited. 

All the gentlemen of our party availed themselves of this 
privilege, and the evening passed more pleasantly than any 
other evening since they had been at sea. 

The fog lasted for three days, during which, as the wind was 
fair and the sea calm, the passengers, well wrapped up, en- 
joyed the promenade of the deck during the day, and the social 
meetings in the dining saloon, or the whist parties in the 
ladies’ cabin during the evening. 

And lulled by this deceitful calm, they were happy in the 
thought that the voyage was nearly half over, and in the antici- 
pation of a prosperous passage over the remaining distance, 
and a safe arrival in port. 

On the evening of the thirdjiay of the fog, however, a vague 
and nameless dread prevaile(^,mong the passengers. No one 
could have told whence this dread arose, or whither it pointed. 
Those well acquainted with the locality knew that the s^amer 
was upon the Banks pf Newfoundland, and that those Banks 
were considered rather unsafe in a fog. 

Some others, who were in the secret, also knew that the cap- 
fain had not left the quarterdeck, either to eat or to sleep, for 
forty-eight hoil&fe; for they had left him on deck at a late hour 
aPnight, and found him there at an early hour of the morning. 
And they had seen strong coffee carried up to him at short in- 
tervals. That was all. For sailors never think of danger until 
that danger, whatever it might be, is imminent ; and never speak 
of it until it becomes necessary to do so, in order to save life. 

Thus the passengers on board the Oceana,” on the night of 
the 20th of December, were totally ignorant of the real nature 
of the perils that beset them, although, as I said, an undefined 
misgiving and a sense of insecurity oppressed their hearts. 

At ten o’clock that night the weather was thick, foggy, and 
intensely cold, with a heavy sea and a high wind. 

The captain and first mate were on deck, where a number of 


198 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

the hardier and more anxious passengers were collected to 
watch. 

In the dining saloon were gathered around the tables those 
inveterate gamblers who seem to have no object, either in the 
voyage of the ocean or the voyage of life, except the winning 
or losing of money. 

In the ladies’ cabin there were two social whist parties, formed 
of the ladies of the Scotch professor’s family and the gentlemen 
of our set. 

They were playing with great enjoyment, notwithstanding 
that little undercurrent of vague uneasiness of which I spoke, 
when the Scotchman, who had been on the deck all the evening, 
came down into the cabin, wearing a long face. 

But the whist-players were too much interested in their game 
to notice the lugubrious expression of the old man, until he 
came to the table, and in a tone of the most alarming gravity 
exclaimed : 

“ Don’t be frightened ! ” 

Every lady dropped her cards and turned deadly pale with 
terror. Every gentleman looked up inquiringly at this judicious 
speaker. 

“ What is there to be frightened at, sir ? ” coldly inquired 
Ishmael. 

Well, you know our situation But, ladies, for Heaven’s 

sake, be composed. Your sex are noted for heroism in the midst 
of danger ” 

Here, to prove his words good, one of the ladies shrieked, 
fell back in her chair, and covered her face with her hands. 

“ These ladies are not aware of any danger, sir, and I think 
it quite needless to alarm them,” said Ishmael ^avely. 

“ My good young friend, I don’t wish to alarm them ; I came 
down here on purpose to exhort them to coolness and self-pos- 
session, so necessary in the hour of peril. How, dear ladies, I 
must beg that you will not suffer yourselves to be agitated.” 

There is really, sir, no present cause for agitation, except, 
if you will pardon me for saying it, your own needlessly alarm- 
ing words and manner,” said Ishmael cheerfully, to reassure 
the frightened women, who seemed upon the very verge of 
hysterics. 

“Ho, no, no, certainly no cause for agitation, ladies — cer- 
tainly not. Therefore don’t be agitated, I beg of you. But — • 
but — don’t undress and go to bed to-night. Lie down on the 


THE WRECK. 


199 


outside of your berths just as you are; for, look you — ^we may all 
have to take to the lifeboats at a minute’s warning,” said the 
doctor, his long, pale face looking longer and paler than ever 
under his round, black skullcap. 

A half-smothered shriek burst simultaneously from all the 
women present. 

“ I trust, sir, that your fears are entirely groundless. I have 
heard no apprehensions expressed in any other quarter,” said 
Ishmael. And although he never begged the ladies not to be 
“ frightened,” yet every cheerful word he spoke tended to calm 
their fears. 

^‘What cause have you for such forebodings, doctor?” in- 
quired Mr. Brudenell. 

“ Oh, none at all, sir. There is no reason to be alarmed. I 
hope nobody will be alarmed, especially the ladies. But you 
see the captain has not been able to make an observation for 
the last three days on account of the fog; and it is said that 
no one accurately knows just where we are; except that we are 
on the Banks, somewhere, and may strike before we know it. 
That is all. Now don’t be terrified. And don’t lose your pres- 
ence of mind. And whatever you do, don’t take off your clothes ; 
for if we strike you mayn’t have time to put them on again, 
and scanty raiment, in an open boat, on a wintry night at sea, 
wouldn’t be pleasant. Now mind what I tell you. I shall not 
turn in myself. I am going on deck to watch.” 

And having succeeded in spreading a panic among the 
women, the old man took himself and his black skullcap out 
of the cabin. Exclamations of surprise, fear, and horror fol- 
lowed his departure. 

There was no more card-playing; they did not even finish 
their game; they felt it to be sacrilegious to engage in even a 
“ ladies’ game ” of whist, on the eve of possible shipwreck, per- 
haps on the brink of eternity. 

Ishmael gathered up and put away the cards and set himself 
earnestly to calm the fears of his trembling fellow-passengers; 
but they were not to be soothed. Then he offered to go up on 
deck and make inquiries as to the situation, course, and pros- 
pects of the ship ; but they would not consent to his leaving 
them; they earnestly besought him to stay; and declared that 
they found assurance and comfort in his presence. 

At length he took the Bible and seated himself at the table, 
and read to them such poc-tions as were suited to their condi- 


200 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

tion. He read for more than an hour, and then, hoping that 
this had composed their spirits, he closed the book and counseled 
them to retire and take some rest; and promised to station him- 
self outside the cabin door and be their vigilant sentinel, to 
warn them of danger the instant it should become necessary. 

But no! they each and all declared sleep to be impossible 
under the circumstances. And they continued to sit around the 
table with their arms laid on its top and their heads buried in 
them, waiting for — ^what? Who could tell? 

Meanwhile the ship was borne swiftly on by wind and wave 
— ^whither? Hone of these frightened women knew. 

Eight bells struck — twelve, midnight; and Ishmael renewed 
his entreaties that they would take some repose. But in vain; 
for they declared that there could be no repose for their bodies 
while their minds were sulfering such intense anxiety. 

One bell struck, and there they sat; two bells, and there they 
still sat; and there was but little conversation after this. 
Three bells struck, and they sat on, so motionless that Ishmael 
hoped they had fallen asleep on their watch and he refrained 
from addressing them. Four bells struck. It was two o’clock 
in the morning, and dead silence reigned in the ladies’ cabin. 
Everyone except Ishmael had gone to sleep. 

Suddenly through the stillness a cry rang — a. joyous cry. It 
was the voice of the man on the lookout, and it shouted forth: 

Land ho!” 

Where away ? ” called another voice. 

“ On her lee bow ! ” 

‘‘What do you make of it?” 

“ Cape Safety lighthouse ! ” 

A shout went up from the passengers on deck. A simul- 
taneous, involuntary, joyous tliree times three. 

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Flurrah ! ” 

A devout thanksgiving ascended from Ishmael’s heart: 

“ Thank God ! ” he fervently exclaimed. 

It was indeed an infinite relief. 

Then he turned to wake up his wearied fellow-passengers, 
who had fallen asleep in such uneasy attitudes — arms folded 
on the top of the table and heads fallen on the folded arms. 

Ladies ! dear ladies ! dear Mrs. Kerr ! you may retire to rest 
now. We have made Cape Safety,” he said, going from one 
to another and gently rousing them. 

They were a little bewildered at first; and while they were 


THE WEECK. 


201 


still trying to understand what Ishmael was saying, the Scotch 
professor burst into the cabin and enlightened them by a coup- 
de-main. 

“ You may all undress and go to bed now, and sleep in peace, 
without the least fear of a shipwreck.” 

“ Eh, pa ! is it so — are we safe ? ” cried the elder daughter. 

Safe as St. Paul’s. We know where we are now. We have 
made Cape Safety Lighthouse. Go to bed and sleep easy. I’m 
going now. Come along, Jeanie,” said the doctor to his old 
wife. 

“ Hot until I have shaken hands with this good young gentle- 
man. I don’t know what would have become of us, doctor, 
after you frightened us so badly, if it had not been for him. 
He stayed with us and kept up our hearts. God bless you, 
young sir ! ” said Mrs. Dr. Kerr, fervently piressing Ishmael’s 
hands. 

Ishmael himself was glad to go to rest; so he only stopped 
long enough to bid good-night to Judge Merlin and Mr. Bru- 
denell, who had just awakened to a sense of security, and then 
he went to his stateroom and turned in. 

Thorouglily wearied in mind and body, he had no sooner 
touched his pillow than he fell into a deep sleep — a sleep that 
annihilated several hours of time. 

He slept until he was aroused by a tremendous shock — a shock 
that threw him, strong, heavy, athletic man as he was, from 
his stateroom berth to the cabin floor. He was on his feet in 
a moment, though stunned, confused, and amazed. The poor 
ship was shuddering throughout her whole frame like a living 
creature in the agony of death. 

Men who had been violently thrown from their berths to 
the floor wore everywhere picking themselves up and trying to 
collect their scattered senses. Crowds were hurrying from the 
cabins and saloons to the deck. The voices of the officers were 
heard in quick, anxious, peremptory orders; and those of the 
crew in prompt, eager, terrified responses. 

And through all came shrieks of terror, anguish, and despair. 

“The ship has struck!” “We are lost!” “God have 
mercy ! ” were the cries. 

Ishmael hurried on his clothes and rushed to the deck. Here 
all was panic, confusion, and unutterable distress. The fog had 
cleared away; day was dawning; and there was just light enough 
[to show them the utter hopelessness of their position. 


202 self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

The steamer had struck a rock, and with such tremendous 
force that she was already parting amidships; heir bows were 
already under water and the sea was breaking over her with 
fearful force. 

How had this happened, with the lighthouse ahead? Was it 
really a lighthouse, or was it a false beacon? 

Ho one could tell; no one had time to ask. Everybody was 
fast crowding to the stem of the ship, the only part of her that 
was out of water. Some crawled up, half drowned ; some drip- 
ping wet; some scarcely yet awake, acting upon the blind im- 
pulse of self-preservation. 

Two of the lifeboats had been forcibly reft away from the 
side of the ship by the violence of the shock and carried off by 
the sea. Only two remained, and it was nearly certain that they 
were not of sufficient capacity to save the crew and passengers. 

But the danger was imminent — a moment^s delay might be 
fatal to all on bo ’rd the wreck; not an instant was to be lost. 

The order was luickly given: 

Get out the lifeboats ! ” 

And the sailors sprang to obey. 

At this moment another fatality threatened the doomed crew 
— it was what might have been expected: the steerage passen- 
gers, mostly a low and brutalized order of men, in whom the 
mere animal instinct of love of life and fear of death was pre- 
dominant over every nobler emotion, came rushing in a 
body up the deck, and crying with one voice: 

To the lifeboats ! to the lifeboats ! Let us seize the life- 
boats, and save ourselves ! ” 

Everyone else was panic-stricken. It is in crises like this 
that the tme hero is developed. With the bound of a young 
Achilles Ishmael seized a heavy iron bar and sprang to the star- 
board gangway, where the two remaining boats were still sus- 
pended ; and standing at bay, with limbs apart, and eyes threat- 
ening, and his fearful weapon raised in his right hand, he 
thundered forth: 

“ Who tries to pass here dies that instant ! Stand off I ” 

Before this young hero the crowd of senseless, rushing brutes 
recoiled as from a fire. 

He pursued and secured his victory with a few words : 

Are you men ? If so, before all, let helpless childhood, and 
feeble womanhood, and venerable age be saved; and then you. 
I demand of you no more than I am willing to do myself. I will 



Who tries to pass here, dies that instant.” 

— Page 202 


Self-Raised 






THE WRECK. 203 

be the last to leave the wreck. I will see you all in safety be- 
fore I attempt to save my own life.” 

So great is the power of heroism over all, that even these 
brutal men, so selfish, senseless, and impetuous a moment be- 
fore, were now subdued; nay, some of them were inspired and 
raised a hurrah. 

Fear of a possible reaction among the steerage passengers, 
however, caused old Captain Mountz, Judge Merlin, Mr. Bru- 
denell. Dr. Kerr, Jem Morris, the Jew, and several others 
to come to the support of Ishmael. Among the rest the captain 
of the steamer came. 

“Young man, you have saved all our lives,” he said. 

Ishmael slowly bowed his head. 

“ I hope that God has saved you all,” he answered. 

The sailors weire now busy getting down the lifeboats. It 
was but the work of a very few minutes. 

“ Let the ladies and children be brought forward,” ordered 
the captain. And the women and children, some screaming, 
some weeping, and some dumb with terror, were lowered into 
one of the boats. 

“ Mow the nearest male relatives of these ladies to the same 
boat,” was the captain^s next order. 

And Dr. Kerr and about a dozen other gentlemen pre- 
sented themselves, and were lowered into the boat, where they 
were received with hysterical cries of mingled joy and fear by 
the women. 

And all this time the sea was dashing fearfully over the 
wreck, and at every interval the planks of the deck upon which 
they clung were felt to swell and sway as if they were about 
to part. 

“ Kow the old men ! ” shouted the captain. 

Ishmael took Judge Merlin by the arm, and with gentle 
coercion passed them on to the sailors, who lowered him into 
the boat. 

Then Captain Mountz and several other old men, and many 
who were not old, but were willing to appear so “ for this oc- 
casion only,” followed and were passed down into the boat. 

Then Ishmael looked around in concern. The professor was 
lingering in the background. 

“Come here, Morris! You certainly fall under the head of 
‘old men,^” he said, taking the professor by the elbow and 
gently pushing him forward. 


204 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

young Ishmael, no! I cannot go! The boat is as full 
as it can be packed now — or at least it won’t hold more than one 
more, and you ought to go; and I will not crowd you out,” 
urged the old man, with passionate earnestness. 

And all this time the sea was thundering over the wreck and 
entirely drenching everybody, and nearly drowning some. 

Morris, I shall not in any case enter that boat. There is 
no time, when scotres of lives are in imminent danger, to argue 
the point. But — as you never disobeyed me in your life before, 
I now lay my commands on you to go into that boat,” said 
Ishmael, with the tone and manner of a monarch. 

With a cry of despair the professor let himself drop into 
the lifeboat to be saved. 

The boat was now really as full as it could possibly be 
crammed with safety to its passengers. And it was detained 
only until a cask of fresh water and a keg of biscuit could be 
thrown into it, and then it gave way for the second lifeboat to 
come up to the gangway. 

This second boat was rapidly filled. But when it was crowded 
quite full there remained upon the breaking wreck Ishmael and 
ten of the younger steerage passengers. 

“ Come ! come ! ” shouted the captain of the steamer, who 
was in the second boat. “Come, Mr. Worth! There is room 
for one more ! There is always room for one more.” 

“ If there is room for one more, take one of these young men, 
my companions,” replied Ishmael gravely. 

“Mo! no! if we cannot take all, why take one of their num- 
ber, instead of taking you, Mr. Worth? Come! come! do not 
keep us here ! It is dangerous ! ” urged the captain. 

“ Pass on ! I remain here ! ” answered Ishmael steadfastly. 

“ But that is madness. What good will it do ? Come, quick ! 
climb up on the bulwarks and leap down into the boat! You 
are young and active, and can do it ! quick ! ” 

“ Give way ! I shall remain here,” replied Ishmael, folding 
his arms and planting himself firmly on the quaking deck, over 
which the sea incessantly thundered. 

“ Ishmael ! Ishmael ! My son ! my son ! for Heaven’s sake — 
for my sal^e, — come ! ” cried Mr. Brudenell, holding out his arms 
in an agony of prayer. 

“Father,” replied the young man, in this supreme moment 
of fate not refusing him that paternal title ; “ father,” he re- 
peated, with impassioned fervor; “father, every one of these 


THE WRECK. 


205 


men has precedence of me, in the right to be saved. For when 
I intervened between them and the lifeboats they were about 
to seize I promised them that I would see every one of them in 
safety before attempting to save myself. I promised them that 
I would be the very last man to leave the wreck. Father, they 
confided in me, and I will keep my word with them.” 

But you cannot save their lives ! ” cried Mr. Brudenell, 
with a gesture of desperation. 

“I can keep my word by staying with them,” was the firm 
reply. 

While Ishmael spoke there was a rapid consultatioin going 
on among his companions on the wreck. Then one of them 
spoke for the rest: 

“ Go and save yourself, young gentleman. We give you 
back your promise.” 

Ishmael turned and smiled upon them with benignity, as he 
replied sweetly: 

“ I thank you, my friends. I thank you earnestly. You are 
brave and generous men. But from such a pledge as I have 
given, you have no power to release me.” 

“Ishmael! Ishmael, for Bee’s sake!” cried Judge Merlin, 
stretching his arms imploringly towards the young man. “ For 
Bee’s sake, Ishmael I Think of Bee I ” 

“ Oh, I do ! I do think of her ! ” said the young man, in a 
voice of impassioned grief. “ God bless her I God forever 
bless her ! But not even for her dear sake must I shrink from 
duty. I honor her too much to live to offer her the dishonored 
hand of a craven. Tell her this, and tell her that my last 
earthly thought was hers. We shall meet in eternity.” 

“Ishmael, Ishmael! ” simultaneously cried Judge Merlin and 
Mr. Brundenell, as they saw a tremendous sea break in thunder 
over the wreck, which was instantly whirled violently around 
as in the vortex of a maelstrom. 

“ Give way ! give way ! quick ! for your lives ! The wreck is 
going and she will draw down the boats ! ” shouted Ishmael, 
waving his arm from the whirling deck. 

The sailors on board the lifeboats laid themselves vigorously 
to their oars, and rowed them swiftly away from the whirling 
eddy around the settling wreck. The passengers on board the 
boats averted their heads or veiled their eyes— they could not 
look upon the death of Ishmael. 

But as the boats bounded away, something leaped from one 


206 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

of them with the heavy plunge of a large dog into the water, 
and the next instant the old gray head of Jim Morris was seen 
rising from the foaming waves. He struggled towards the 
deck, clambered up its sides and sunk at Ishmael’s feet, em- 
bracing his knees, weeping and crying: 

“ Young Ishmael ! master ! master ! Oh, let me die with you ! ” 

Speechless from profound emotion, Ishmael stooped and 
raised the old man and clasped him to his bosom with one arm, 
while with the other he waved adieu to the rapidly receding 
lifeboats. 


CHAPTER XXVin. 

A DISCOVERY. 

Why stand ye thus amazed ? methinks your eyes 
Are fixed in meditation ; and all here 
Seem like so many senseless statues, 

As if your souls had suffered an eclipse 
Betwixt your judgments and affections. 

—Swetnam. 

We must return to Claudia, and to that evening when she 
was accosted by Katie on the stairs. 

On that occasion Claudia went down to dinner without feeling 
the least anxiety on the subject of Katie’s promised communi- 
cation. She supposed, when she thought of it at all, that it 
was some such idle rumor as frequently arose concerning the 
discovery of some suspected person implicated in the murder 
of Ailsie Dunbar. 

The dinner that evening happened to be more protracted 
than usual. 

And when they arose from the table Mrs. Dugald, contrary 
to her custom, immediately retired to her private apartments. 
Claudia was also about to withdraw, when the viscount said 
to her: 

Excuse me. Lady Vincent; but I must request the favor 
of a few moments’ conversation with you.” 

^‘Very well, my lord,” answered Claudia, bowing coldly. 

He led the way to the drawing room and Claudia followed. 
Coffee was already served there, and old Cuthbert was in attend- 
ance to hand it around. 

‘^You may go, Cuthbert. We can wait on ourselves,” said 


A DISCOVERY. 207 

Lord Vincent, as he led his wife to a seat and took one for him- 
self near her. 

When the old servant had left the room the viscount turned 
to Claudia and said: 

“ Lady Vincent, I have been obliged to solicit this interview 
because I have much to say to you, while you give me very few 
opportunities of saying anything.” 

Claudia bowed a cold assent and remained silent. 

‘‘It is of Mrs. Dugald that I wish to speak to you.” 

“I am listening, my lord,” replied Claudia haughtily. 

“Lady Vincent, this arrogant manner towards me will not 
serve any good purpose. However, it is not on my own score 
that I came to complain, but on Mrs. Dugald’s; that lady’s po- 
sition in this house is a very delicate one.” 

“So delicate, my lord, that I think the sooner she withdraws 
from it the better it will be.” 

“You do! It is to that end, then, I presume, that you have 
treated her with so much scorn and contempt ? ” said his lord- 
ship angrily. 

“ My lord, with all my faults, I am no hypocrite ; and with all 
my accomplishments I am no actress.” 

“ What do you mean by that, my lady ? ” 

“I mean that I have not been able to treat your — sister-in- 
law — with the respect that I could not feel for her,” replied 
Claudia, with disdain. 

“ Ho, madam 1 ” exclaimed Lord Vincent, turning pale with 
rage. “ You have treated that lady with the utmost contumely. 
And I have demanded this interview with you for the express 
purpose of telling you that I will not submit to have the widow 
of ray brother treated with disrespect in my own house and 
by my own wife 1 ” 

Claudia arose with great dignity and answered : 

“My lord, since you desired this interview for the purpose 
of expressing your wishes upon this point; and, since you have 
expressed them, I presume the object of our meeting has been 
accomplished and I am at liberty to withdraw. Good-night.” 

“Hot so fast, not so fast. Lady Vincent! I have not done 
with you yet, my lady. The will that I have just spoken must 
be obeyed. Mrs. Dugald must be treated by you, as well as by 
others, with the courtesy and consideration due to her rank 
and position. Many abuses must be reformed. And among 
them is this one — ^your constant refusal to appear in public 


208 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

with her. Ever since your arrival here Mrs. Dugald has been 
a prisoner in the house, because she cannot go out alone; and 
she will not go out, attended by me, unless you are also of the 
party, for fear that evil-minded people will talk.” 

Claudia’s beautiful lip curled with scorn as she answered: 

“Mrs. Dugald’s scruples do credit to her — ^powers of du- 
plicity.” 

“You wrong her. You always wrong her; but, by my soul, 
you shall not continue to do so! Listen, Lady Vincent! Mr. 
and Mrs. Dean, the celebrated tragedians, are playing a short 
engagement at Banff. Mrs. Dugald and myself wish to go and 
see them. It will be proper for you to be of the party. I de- 
sire that you will be prepared to go with us to-morrow evening.’^ 

Claudia’s face flushed crimson with indignation. 

“Excuse me, my lord. I cannot possibly appear anywhere 
in public with Mrs. Dugald,” she haughtily replied.' 

“ If you fail to go with us, you will rue your scorn in every 
vein of your heart, my lady. However, I will not take your 
flnal answer to-night; I will give you another chance in the 
morning. Au revoir ! ” he said, with an insulting laugh, as he 
lounged out of the room. 

Claudia remained where he had left her, transfixed with in- 
dignation, for a few minutes. And then she began to walk 
up and down the room to exhaust her excitement before going 
upstairs to her dressing room, where she supposed that Katie 
was awaiting her. 

She walked up and down the floor some fifteen or twenty 
minutes, and then left the saloon and sought her own apart- 
ments. She had just reached the landing of the second floor, 
on which her rooms were situated, when she was startled by a 

low, half -suppressed cry of “Murd ,” which was quickly 

stopped, and immediately followed by a muffled fall and a low 
scuffling, and the voice of Lord Vincent muttering vehemently: 
“Faustina!” and other words inaudible to the hearer. 

“ Ah ! they are quarreling as usual ! ” said Claudia to herself, 
with a scornful smile, as she crossed the hall and entered her 
own suite of apartments. 

“I have kept you waiting, Katie; but I could not help it, 
my good woman,” she said cheerfully, as she entered her dress- 
ing room. But there was no reply. She looked around her in 
surprise. Katie was nowhere to be seen; the room was empty. 
The lamp was burning dimly and the fire was smoldering out. 


A DISCOVERY. 


209 

Claudia raised the light of the lamp, and, seating herself 
in her easy-chair before the fire, stirred the coals into a blaze 
and began to warm her feet and hands. 

“ The old creature has grown weary of waiting, I suppose, 
and has gone down to her supper,” she said to herself. And 
she sat waiting patiently for some time before she rang her bell. 

Sally answered it. 

“ Go down, Sally, and tell Katie that I am here and ready to 
see her now,” said Lady Vincent. 

Sally went on this errand, but soon returned and said: 

“ If you please, ma’am. Aunt Katie aint nowhere downstairs. 
I s’pects she’s done gone to bed.” 

Claudia suddenly looked up to the ormolu clock that stood 
upon the mantel shelf. 

Why, yes ! ” she said, “ it is nearly eleven o’clock. I had 
no idea that it was so late. Of course she has gone to bed.” 

“ Mus’ I go call her up, ma’am ? ” 

^^Ko, Sally; certainly not. But there was something that 
she said she had to tell me. Something, I fancy, it was, about 
the murder of that poor girl. Has anything new been discovered 
in relation to that affair, do you know ? ” 

“ Ko, ma’am, not as I has beam. ’Deed it was only jes now 
we was all a-talking about it in de servants’ hall, and Mr. 
Frisbie he was a-mentioning how misteerious it was, as we 
could hear nothing. And jes then your bell rung, ma’am, and 
I came away.” 

“Well, Sally, you must help me to disrobe, and then you 
may go.” 

The waiting maid did her duty and retired. 

And Claudia, wrapped in her soft dressing gown and seated 
in her easy-chair before the fire, gave herself up to thought. 

She was thinking of her meeting with Katie on the stairs. 
Since it was no new rumor connected with the murder, she 
was wondering what could be the nature of the communication 
Katie had to make to her. She recalled the anxious, frightened, 
indignant countenance of the old woman, and in her memory 
that expression seemed to have a more significant meaning than 
it had had to her careless eyes at the time of seeing it. 

What could it be that Katie had to tell her? Of course Clau- 
dia did not know; she soon gave up trying to conjecture; but 
felt impatient for the morning, when the mystery should be 
revealed. 


210 


self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

Other anxious thoughts also troubled her; thoughts of the 
dangers to which she was exposed from the hatred of Lord Vin- 
cent, the jealousy of Mrs. Dugald, and the depravity of both; 
thoughts of her father^s long and strange silence; thoughts of 
the insult she had received that evening in being commanded 
to chaperon Mrs. Dugald to the theater; thoughts of the mys- 
terious sounds she had heard /rom Mrs. Dugald’s room, and 
which she was so far from connecting with any idea of Katie 
that she attributed them solely to a quarrel between her two 
precious companions; and lastly the ever-recurring thoughts 
of that mysterious discovery which old Katie had made, and 
which she was so eager to impart to her lady. Ever Claudia^s 
thoughts, traveling in a circle, came back to this point. 

Wearied with fruitless speculation she still sat on, watching 
the decaying fire and listening to the thunder of the sea as 
it broke upon the rocks at the base of the castle. At length she 
got up, drew aside the heavy window curtains, opened the strong 
oaken shutters and looked out upon the expanse of the gray and 
dreary sea, dimly visible under the cloudy midnight sky. 

At last she closed the window and went to bed. But she could 
not sleep. She lay wakeful, restless, anxious, through the long 
hours of the middle night, and through the gray dawn of morn- 
ing and the early flush of day. A little before her usual hour 
of rising she rang the bell. 

Sally answered it. 

Is Katie up ? ” she inquired. 

‘^Ko, ma’am. Mus’ I wake her?” 

Certainly not. Let her have her sleep out, poor creature. 
And do you stop and help me to dress.” 

And so saying Claudia arose and made an elegant morning 
toilet; for Claudia, like Mary Stuart, would have “ dressed ” had 
she been a lifelong, hopeless captive. 

When her toilet was made she directed Sally to bring her a 
cup of strong coffee; and when she had drunk it she sat down 
to wait with what patience she could for the awakening of old 
Katie. 

Poor Claudia, with all her faults, was kind to her depend- 
ents and considerate of their comforts. And so, anxious as she 
was to hear the communication old Katie had to make to her, 
she was resolved not to have the old woman’s rest broken. 

She sat by the window of her dressing room, looking out upon 
the boundless sea from which the sun was rising, and over 


A DISCOVERY. 211 

which a solitary sail was passing. She sat there until the break- 
fast bell rang. And then she went below. 

She was the first in the breakfast room, and she remained 
there standing before the fire full ten minutes before anyone 
else appeared. 

Lord Vincent was the next to come in. And Claudia actually 
started when she saw the awful pallor of his face. Every ves- 
tige of color had fled from it; his brow, cheeks, and even lips 
were marble white; his voice shook in saying “good-morning,” 
and his hand shook in lifting the “ Banff Beacon ” from the 
table. 

While Claudia was watching him in wonder and amazement, 
there came a flutter and a rustle, and Mrs. Dugald entered the 
room all brightness and smiles. 

She gave one quick, wistful glance at the viscount, and then 
addressed him in a hurried, anxious tone, speaking in the 
Italian language and saying: 

“Rouse yourself! Look not so like an assassin. You will 
bring suspicion ! ” 

“ Hush I ” answered the viscount, with a quick glance towards 
Claudia, which warned La Faustina that the American lady 
might be supposed to understand Italian. 

Claudia did understand it, and was filled with a vague sense 
of horror and amazement. 

They sat down to the table. Lord Vincent followed Mrs. 
Hugald^s advice and tried to “ rouse ” himself. And after he 
had two or three cups of coffee he succeeded. 

Faustina was as bright as a paroquet and as gay as a lark. 
She prattled on in a perpetual, purling stream of music. Among 
other things she said: 

“ And do we go to see Mr. and Mrs. Dean in ‘ Macbeth ^ to- 
night, mon ami?” 

“Yes; and Lady Vincent goes with us,” answered Lord Vin- 
cent emphatically. 

“ I beg your pardon, my lord. I have already declined to do 
so,” said Claudia, speaking with forced coolness, though her 
heart was burning, her cheeks flaming, and her eyes flashing 
with indignation. 

“ You will think better of it, my lady. You will go. Cuth- 
bert, pass the eggs.” 

“I shall not, my lord,” replied Claudia. 

“Why will you not? Pepper, Cuthbert.” 


212 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

the reason that I gave you last night. Your lordship 
cannot -wish me to repeat it here.” 

“ Oh, a very particular reason you gave me ! The salt, Cuth- 
bert,” said his lordship, coolly breaking the shell of his egg. 

“ A reason, my lord, that should be considered sufficiently 
satisfactory to relieve me from importunity on the subject,” 
answered Claudia. 

“ If miladie does not wish to go, we should not urge her to 
do so,” observed Mrs. Dugald, as she slowly sipped her chocolate. 

‘‘ Certainly not. And now I think of it, you can send over for 
Mrs. MacDonald to come and go with us. The old lady enjoys 
the drama excessively and will be glad to come. So you shall 
be sure of your intellectual treat, Faustina.” 

That will be so nice ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Dugald, clapping 
her hands in childish glee. 

Claudia arose from the table and withdrew to her own apart- 
ments. She was revolted by the fulsome manners of the strange 
woman who shared her dwelling, and she was drawn toward the 
secret, whatever it was, that old Katie wished to impart to her. 

When she entered the rooms she found them all arranged 
tidily by the neat hands of Sally, who since the death of poor 
Ailsie had had the care of them. 

Sally, has not Katie been up yet? ” inquired Lady Vincent. 

“Ko, ma’am; I don’t think she’s awake yet; I reckon she’s 
a-oversleepin’ of herself. And I would ’a’ waked her up, only, 
ma’am, you bid me not to do it.” 

“What, do you mean to say that she has not yet made her 
appearance ? ” demanded Claudia, in alarm. 

“ FTobody aint seen nothing ’tall of her this morning, ma’am.” 

“ Go to her room at once and see if she is ill. She may be, 
you know. Go in quietly, so that you will not awaken her if 
she should be asleep,” said Claudia, in alarm, for she suddenly 
remembered that people of Katie’s age and habit sometimes die 
suddenly and are found dead in their beds. 

Sally went on her errand, and Claudia stood waiting and lis- 
tening breathlessly until her return. 

“ Laws, ma’am. Aunt Katie’s done got up, and ^ade her bed 
up and put her room to rights, and gone downstairs,” said 
Sally, as she entered the .room. 

“ Then go at once, and if she has had her breakfast send her 
up to me. Strange she did not come.” 

Sally departed on this errand also, but she was gone longer 


A BISCOVEKY. 213 

than on the first. It was nearly half an hour before she re- 
turned. She came in with a scared face, saying : 

“ Ma’am, it’s very odd ; but the servants say as ole Aunt Katie 
hasn’t been down this morning.” 

Hasn’t been down this morning ? And is not in her room 
either ? ” cried Claudia, in amazement. 

^^No, ma’am!” answered Sally, stretching her big eyes. 

Lady Vincent sharply rang the bell. 

The housekeeper promptly answered it, entering the room with 
an anxious countenance. 

^‘Mrs. Murdock, is it true that my servant Katie has not 
been seen this morning ? ” 

Me leddy, she has nae been seen, puir auld bodie, sin’ last 
e’en at the gloaming. She didna come to supper, though Katie 
isna use to be that careless anent her bit and sup, neither.” 

“Mot seen since last evening at dusk!” exclaimed Claudia, 
in consternation. 

“ Na, me leddy, ne’er a bit o’ her, puir bodie! ” 

“ Go, Ml’S. Murdock, and send the maids to look for her in 
every place about the castle where she is in the habit of going. 
And send the men outside to examine the premises. She may 
be taken with a fit somewhere, and die for want of assistance,” 
said Lady Vincent, in alarm. 

^‘And sae she may, me leddy! That is true enough,” re- 
plied the dame, nodding her head emphatically as she hurried 
out on this mission. 

Claudia sat down before her dressing-room fire and tried 
to wait the issue patiently. To be sure, she thought Katie 
might be in the stillroom, or the linen closet, or the bathroom, 
and there could be no reasonable cause of uneasiness. But 
why, then, did she not come up? Well, she might have been 
busy in some one of the above-mentioned places; and she might 
have been waiting until she thought her mistress should have 
got through breakfast; and perhaps she might come now very 
soon ; might even enter at any moment. Such were the thoughts 
that coursed through Claudia’s brain, as she tried to sit still 
before her little fire. 

For more than an hour Claudia waited, and then she impa- 
tiently rang the bell. It brought Mrs. Murdock into the room. 

^^Has Katie been found yet?” 

“Na, me leddy, not a bit of her. The servants are still 
seeking her.” 


214 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

“ But this is very strange and alarming.” 

It just is, me leddy. And I canna but fear that some ill 
has happened till her, puir soul ! ” 

“I will go down and assist in the search,” said Lady Vin- 
oent, rising anxiously. 

“Ha, me leddy, dinna gang, ye canna do ony good. The 
lasses are seeking in every nook and cranny in the house; and 
if she is biding in it they will find her. And the lads hae gone 
outside to seek in the grounds, whilk same is sune done; for 
the castle yard and grounds are nae that expansive, as your 
leddyship kens.” 

“ But I cannot sit here, waiting in idleness. It drives me 
half frantic! Who can say what may not have happened to 
poor Katie ? ” 

“Nae, me leddy, dinna fash yo’sel? She may e’en just ha’ 
gone her ways over to Banff, or some gait, and may be back 
sune. I’ll gae see if they ha’ brought in ony news.” 

“ Go, then, Mrs. Murdock, and let me know the instant you 
hear anything definite,” said Claudia, sinking back in her chair. 

Mrs. Murdock left the room, and another hour of suspense 
passed. And then, uncalled, the housekeeper came up again, 
and said: 

“ It is a’ in vain, me leddy. The servants have sought every- 
where, within and without the castle, and they can na find the 
auld bodie at a’! And your leddyship’s ain footman, Jamie, 
ha’ come fra Banff and brought the morning mail, and he 
has na seen onything o’ his mither on the road.” 

“ Good Heavens ! but this is strange and very dreadful. 
Send Jim up to me at once.” 

The housekeeper went to obey. And Jim soon stood in the 
presence of his mistress. 

“Any letters from America, Jim?” inquired Lady Vincent 
anxiously, and for a moment forgetting poor old Katie’s un- 
known fate. 

“No, my lady, not one. There was no foreign mail to-day.” 

“ Another disappointment ! Always disappointments ! ” 
sighed Claudia. And then reverting to the subject of Katie’s 
disappearance, she said: 

“What is this about your mother, Jim? When did you seS 
her last ? And have you any idea where she can be gone ? ” 

Jim suddenly burst into tears; for we know that he loved 
his old mother exceedingly ; and he sobbed forth the words : 


A DISCO VEKY. 215 

Oh, my lady, I am afeared as somebody has gone and made 
way with her as they did with poor Ailsie ! ” 

“Gracious Heaven, Jim, what a horrible idea! and what an 
utterly irrational one. Who coxdd possibly have any motive 
for harming poor old Katie ? ” 

“ I don’t know, my lady. But, you see, my poor mother was 
always a-watching and a-listening about after his lordship and 
that strange lady. And I know they noticed it, and maybe they 

have done made way with mother My lady! oh! you are 

fainting! You are dying!” cried Jim, suddenly breaking off, 
and rushing towards his mistress, 'who had turned deadly pale, 
and fallen back in her chair. 

“Ko, no! water, water!” cried Lady Vincent, struggling to 
overcome her weakness. 

Jim flew and brought her a full glass. She quafled its con- 
tents eagerly, and sat up, and tried to collect her panic-stricken 
faculties. She had received a dreadful shock. Jim’s words 
had given the key to the whole mystery. In one terrible moment 
the ghastly truth had burst upon her. She understood, now, the 
whole. She could combine the circumstances : Katie’s agitated 
meeting with her on the stairs; the communication which the 
poor faithful old creature seemed so eager to make, and which 
must have related to some discovery that she had made; the 
mysterious noises heard in Mrs. Dugald’s apartments; the 
guilty paleness of the viscount at the breakfast table; the 
strange words spoken in Italian by Faustina; the mysterious 
disappearance of Katie; all, all these pointed to one dreadful 
deed, from the bare thought of which all Claudia’s soul re- 
coiled in horror. 

“Jim! ” she gasped, in a choking voice. 

“ My lady ! ” 

“At what hour last evening did you see your mother?” 

“Just a little after sunset. The last dinner bell had rung; 
and I brought some coal up to put on your ladyship’s fire, and 
I set it on the outside of the door, intending to take it in as 
soon as your ladyship came out to go down to dinner. Well, 
I was standing there waiting with the coal when I saw my 
lord’s door open and Mr. Frisbie come out, with such a face! 
Oh, my lady! I don’t know how to describe it; but it had a 
cruel, cowardly, desperate look — as if he would have cut some- 
one’s throat to save himself a shilling! lift passed on down- 
stairs without ever seeing me. And the next minute my lord 


216 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

came out of the same room, with — I beg your pardon, my lady 
— a look of wicked triumph on his face. He was even laughing, 
like he had done something that pleased him. And he happened 
to look up and see me, and he growled: 

“ ‘ What are you doing there, fellow ? ’ 

And I bowed down to the ground a’most, and answered : 

^ I have brought up coal for my lady’s rooms, my lord.’ 

« < Very well,’ he said, and he went on. 

“Next thing, I was tuk right off my feet, by seeing of my 
own mother come right out’n that same room. And she came 
out, did the old woman, with her eyes rolled up and her arms 
lifted high, looking as she a’most always does when she hears 
anything dreadful; looking just for all the world as she did the 
day she heard of poor Ailsie’s murder. Well, my lady, I felt 
sure as she had been a-hiding of herself in my lord’s room, 
and had discovered something horrible. And so I called to her 
in a low voice: 

‘ Mother ! ’ 

' “ But she shook her head at me, and ran down the stairs, and 
stood waiting. And just at that minute your ladyship came out 
of your room. You may remember, my lady, seeing me stand- 
ing there with the coal as you came out ? ” 

“Yes, Jim, I remember,” replied Lady Vincent. 

“ Well, my lady, I saw mother stop you, and I heard a whis- 
pered conversation, in which she seemed to beg you to do some- 
thing that you hadn’t time to attend to, for you went down- 
stairs and left her.” 

“I was on my way to dinner, you remembex; but I bade 
Katie go into my dressing room and await me there. When I 
went up after dinner, however, I found that she had not fol- 
lowed my directions. She was not in my apartments, nor have 
I seen her since.” 

“ I beg pardon, my lady ; but, indeed, poor mother did obey 
your ladyship. She came upstairs again, and she took the coal 
hod out’n my hands, and said — said she : 

“^YoU go right straight downstairs, Jim, and I’ll tend to 
my ladyship’s fires myself.’ And I said: 

“ ‘ Mother,’ said I, ‘ what’s the matter ? ’ And she whispered 
to me: 

“‘I done hear somethin’ awful, Jim; but I must tell my 
ladyship before I tells anyone else.’ 

“ ‘ Was it about poor Ailsie’s death? ’ said 1. 


A DEEP ONE. 


2ir 


Worse ’an dat,’ she answered; and then she went in and 
shut the door in my face. And I come away. And that was 
the last time as ever I see my poor, dear old mother. She 
never come down to supper, nor likewise to play cards in the 
servants’ hall in the evening, as she is so fond of doing. And 
surely, my lady, I was not uneasy, because I knew she often 
stayed in your ladyship’s rooms until late ; and as I had seen her 
go into them myself that evening, I was feeling full sure that 
she was with you. And so I went to bed in peace. And this 
morning, as I got up and went to the post office before any of 
the woman servants were astir, of course I didn’t expect to see 
her. But the first thing as I heard when I come back, was as 
she was a-missing! And oh, my lady, I’m sure, I’m dead sure, 
as somebody has made way with her! ” exclaimed Jim, bursting 
into a fresh flood of tears. 

“Don’t despair, Jim; we must hope for the best,” replied 
Lady Vincent, in whose bosom not a vestige of hope remained. 

But Jim only answered with his tears. 

“Compose yourself, boy; and go and say to Lord Vincent 
that I request to see him in my boudoir.” 

Jim went out with a heavy heart to do his errand; but re- 
turned with an answer that Lord Vincent was engaged. 

“ I will not be baffled in this way ! ” muttered Claudia to her- 
self. Then speaking aloud she inquired : “ Where is his lord- 
ship, and upon what is he engaged ? ” 

“He is sitting in the library, with a bottle of brandy and a 
box of cigars on the table by him ; he is smoking and drinking.” 

“ ^ Smoking and drinking ’ at twelve o’clock in the day 1 ” 
muttered Claudia to herself, with a motion of disgust. Then 
speaking up, she said: “Go downstairs, Jim, and assist in the 
search for your poor mother; I will ring when I want you.” 

CHAPTEB XXIX. 

A DEEP ONE. 

An evil sonl producing holy witness, 

Is like a villain with a smiling face, 

A goodly apple, rotten at the core. 

—Shakspere. 

And when her footman had retired Claudia gave herself up 
to severe and painful thought upon what she had just heard. 
And the more she reflected on the circumstances the more 


218 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

firmly convinced she became that poor old Katie had suffered 
foul play; though of what precise nature or by whom exactly 
dealt she could not decide. Whether Katie had been kidnaped 
and sent away; or immured in one of the underground dun- 
geons of the castle; or murdered; or whether the perpetrators 
of either of these crimes were Lord Vincent and Faustina; or 
Lord Vincent and Frisbie; or Faustina and Frisbie; or finally, 
whether all three were implicated, she could not determine. 
And the whole question overwhelmed her with horror. Was ' 
this ancient and noble castle really a den of thieves and assas- 
sins? One frightful murder had already been committed. An- 
other had perhaps been perpetrated. Was even her own life safe 
in such a cut-throat place? She feared not; and she knew 
that she must act with exceeding caution and prudence to in- 
sure her safety. What then should she do? What became her 
duty in these premises? Clearly she could not leave the faith- 
ful servant, who had probably lost life or liberty in her ser- 
vice, to such a fate. And yet for Lady Vincent to stir in the 
matter would be to risk her own life. 

No matter! Claudia, with all her faults, was no coward. 

And with a sudden resolution she arose and went downstairs 
and into the library, where Lord Vincent sat drinking and 
smoking. 

“Lady Vincent, I believe I sent you word that I was en- 
gaged,” said the viscount, as soon as he saw her. 

“Not very particularly engaged, I believe, my lord,” said 
Claudia, resolutely advancing toward him. 

“ I was smoking. And I understood that you disliked 
smoke,” said Lord Vincent, throwing away the end of his 
cigar. 

“ There are crises in life, my lord, that make us forget such 
small aversions. One such crisis is at hand now,” answered 
Claudia gravely. 

“Will your ladyship explain?” he demanded, placing a chair 
for her. Evidently the brandy or something or other had strung 
up Lord Vincent’s nerves. 

Claudia took the seat, and sitting opposite to him, fixed her 
eyes upon his face arid said : 

“ Are you aware. Lord Vincent, that my servant Katie has 
been missing since yesterday afternoon ? ” 

“Indeed? Where has the old creature taken herself off to? 
She has not eloped with one of our canny Scots, has she ? ” in- 


A DEEP ONE. 219 

quired the viscount, coolly lighting another cigar and puffing 
away at it. 

Such jesting, my lord, is cruelly out of place! It has not 
been many days since a very horrid murder was committed 
on these premises. The murderer has eluded detection. And 
apparently such impunity has emboldened assassins. I have 
too much cause to fear that my poor old servant has shared 
Ailsie Dunbar’s fate I ” 

Before Claudia had finished her sentence Lord Vincent had 
dropped his cigar and was gazing at her in ill-concealed 
terror. 

“ What cause have you for such absurd fears ? Pray do you 
take the castle of my ancestors to be the lair of banditti?” 
he asked in a tone of assumed effrontery, but of real cowardice. 

^‘For something very like that indeed, my lord!” answered 
Claudia, with a terrible smile. 

“ I ask you what cause have you for entertaining these pre- 
posterous suspicions ? ” 

“ First of all, the assassination of Ailsie Dunbar and the 
successful concealment of her murderer. Secondly, the mys- 
terious disappearance of my servant Katie, just at a time when 
it was desirable to some parties to get her out of the way,” said 
Claudia emphatically, and fixing her eyes firmly on the face of 
the viscount, that visibly paled before her gaze. 

“ What — ^what do you mean by that ? ” 

“My lord, I will tell you. Yesterday afternoon, as I was 
descending to dinner, old Katie met me on the stairs and with 
a frightened face told me that she had made an important dis- 
covery that she wished to communicate to me. I directed her 
to go to my dressing room and wait there until my return from 
dinner, when I fully intended to hasten at once to her side 
and hear what she had to say 

“ Some ^ mare’s nest ’ of a new rumor concerning the mur- 
derer of Ailsie Dunbar, I suppose,” said the viscount, with a 
feeble attempt to sneer. 

“Ko, my lord, I rather think it was something concerning 
my own safety. But I never knew; for you may reccollect that 
on last evening your lordship detained me in conversation some 
time after dinner. When I went to my dressing room Katie 
was not there. I thought she had grown sleepy and had gone 
to bed, and so I felt no anxiety on that score. But this morning 
my lord, she is missing. She is nowhere to be found.” 


220 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

“ Oh, I dare say she has gone visiting some of the country 
people with whom she has picked acquaintance. She will turn 
up all right by and by.” 

‘‘I fear not, my lord.” 

Why do you ‘ fear not ’ ? ” 

Because there are other very suspicious circumstances con- 
nected with the disappearance of Katie, that since her evan- 
ishment have recurred to my memory, or been brought to my 
knowledge.” 

^^Pray, may one ask without indiscretion what these sus- 
picious circumstances are ? ” 

Certainly, my lord ; it was to report them that I came here. 
Pirst, then, last evening on my return towards my ovm room I 
was a little startled by hearing a scream, quickly smothered, 
and then a fall and a scuffling, soon silenced. These sounds 
came from the apartment of Mrs. Dugald ” 

“ The demon ! ” burst involuntarily from the unguarded lips 
of Lord Vincent. 

Claudia heard, but continued to speak as though she had not 
heard. 

— “ I caught one single word of the conversation that ensued. 
It was — ^Faustina!’ and it was your voice that uttered it. I 
therefore supposed at the time, my lord, that you were only 
having one of your customary slight misunderstandings with 
your — sister-in-law.” 

Yes, yes, yes, yes, that was it! She was suffering from an 
attack of hysterics; and I had to go in and control her a little. 
She has been subject to these attacks ever since the death of 
her husband, poor woman,” said he, in a quavering voice. 

Claudia eyed him closely and continued: 

That was the circumstance that recurred to my memory with 
so much significance when Katie was reported missing this 
morning. Then, upon making inquiries as to where and by 
whom she was last seen, another very significant circumstance 
was brought to my knowledge; that she was seen last evening 
to issue from your rooms immediately after you and your 
valet left them; and it appears to have been just after that 
she met me on the steps.” 

Flames of ! What was she doing in my rooms ? ” ex' 

claimed the viscount, losing all self-command for the moment 
and turning ghastly white with the mingled passions of rage 
and terror. 


A DEEP ONE. 


221 


I do not know, my lord ; probably her duty, a part of which 
is to keep your linen in order. But whatever took her to your 
rooms, on that occasion, or detained her there, it is very evi- 
dent that while there she made some frightful discovery which 
she wished to communicate and would have communicated to 
me had she not been — prevented,” said Claudia firmly. 

Lord Vincent was tremendously agitated, but struggled hard 
to regain composure. At last he succeeded. 

“Who told you that she was seen coming from my rooms? 
What spy, what eavesdropper, what mischief-maker have you in 
your employ that goes about my house — ^watching, listening, 
and tale-bearing? If I detect such a culprit in the act I will 
break his or her neck, and that you may rely upon ! ” he said. 

“Have you broken Katie’s neck?” inquired Lady Vincent. 

“Ha, ha, ha! If I had caught her hiding in my rooms I 
should have done so beyond all doubt ! Luckily for her I did not 
do so, as you must be aware, since you say she was seen coming 
out of them.” 

“ Yes ; but she was never seen to leave the castle 1 ” 

“ Lady Vincent, what is it that you dare to insinuate? ” 

“ My lord, I insinuate nothing. I tell you plainly that I feel 
myself to be — not in a nobleman’s castle, but in a brigand’s 
fastness ; and that I suspect my poor old servant has been foully 
made way with.” 

“Lady Vincent, how dare you!” 

“ You may glare at me, my lord, but you shall not intimidate 
me. I have seen one murdered woman in the house; I do 
strongly suspect the presence of another, and I know not how 
soon my own life may fall a sacrifice to the evil passions of the 
fiend that rules your fate. I have been silent in regard to my 
deep wrongs for a long time, my lord. But now that my poor 
servant has fallen a victim to her fidelity, I can be silent no 
longer! I am here alone, helpless, and in your power! Yet 
I must make my protest, and trust in God’s mercy to deliver 
me, and what is left of mine, from the hands of the spoiler ! ” 
said Claudia solemnly. 

Sometimes necessity compels people to think and act with 
great rapidity ; to rally their faculties and charge a difficulty 
at a moment’s notice. 

This was the case with the Viscount Vincent now. Very 
quickly he collected his mind, formed his resolution, and acted 
upon it. 


222 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

“ Lady Vincent,” he said, in a kinder tone than he had yet 
used, “your words shock and appall me beyond all measure. 
Your suspicions wrong me cruelly, foully; I know nothing what- 
ever of the fate of your woman; on my soul and honor, I do 
not! But if you really suspect that anyone had an interest in 
the taking oif of that poor old creature, tell me at once to whom 
your suspicions point, and I will do my very u^tpiost to discover 
the truth. By all my hopes of final redemption and salva- 
tion, I will I ” he added, looking earnestly in her face. 

Claudia gazed at him in utter amazement. Could this be 
true? she asked herself. Could a man look so full in her face, 
speak so earnestly, and swear by such sacred things, while tell- 
ing a falsehood. To one of Claudia’s proud nature it was easier 
to believe a man guilty of murder than of lying and perjury. 
She was thoroughly perplexed. 

Lord Vincent saw the effect his words had had upon her, and 
he was encouraged to follow up his success. 

“ Whom do you suspect, Claudia ? ” he inquired. 

She answered honestly. 

“ My lord, I will tell you truly. I suspect you.” 

“ Me ! ” he exclaimed, with a laugh of incredulity. ISTever 
were honest scorn and righteous indignation more forcibly ex- 
pressed. “ Me ! Why, Claudia, in the name of all the insanities 
in Bedlam, why should you suspect me? What interest could I 
possibly have in getting rid of your amusing gorilla ? ” 

“ My lord, I hope that I have wronged you ; but I feared 
that Katie had become possessed of some secret of yours which 
you wished to prevent her from divulging.” 

“ And for that you thought I would have taken her life? ” 

“ For that reason I thought you would have made away with 
her — by kidnaping and sending her out of the country, or by 
immuring her in one of the dungeons of the castle, or even 
by ” 

“ Speak out I ‘ Cutting her throat,’ why don’t you say ? ” 

“ Oh, Lord Vincent, but this is horrible, horrible ! ” shud- 
dered Claudia. 

“Ha, ha, ha! Well, upon my life, my lady, you are exces- 
sively complimentary to me! But I am willing to believe that 
the tragic event of last week has shattered your nervous sys- 
tem and disturbed the equilibrium of your mind. But for that 
I should hardly know how to pardon your absurd insults. Have 
you anything more to say to me. Lady Vincent?” 


A DEEP ONE. 


223 


“ Only this, my lord ; that if I find I have wronged you by 
this dreadful suspicion, as perhaps I have, I shall be glad, yes, 
overjoyed, to acknowledge it and beg your pardon. And, in 
the meantime, I must ask you to keep your word with me, and 
investigate the disappearance of Katie ! ” 

“ I will do so willingly. Lady Vincent. And now a word 
with you. Will you not change your mind and go with us to 
Mr. and Mrs. Dean to-night ? ” 

“ Ko, m/^rd,” replied Claudia, in a tone that admitted of 
no further ofscussion of the question. 

*And thus they parted. 

For some time after Claudia left the library Lord Vincent 
remained sitting with his brows contracted, his mouth clenched, 
and his eyes fixed upon the ground. He was in deep thought. 
Handsome man as he was, villain was written all over his face, 
form, and manner in characters that even a child could have 
read; and, therefore, no one was to be pitied who, having once 
seen Lord Vincent, suffered themselves to be deceived by him. 

Presently he a'^^e, bent toward the door and peered out, and, 
seeing that the coast was clear, he went out with his stealthy, 
cat-like step, and stole softly to the room of Mrs. Dugald. 

She was in her boudoir. 

He entered without knocking, locked the door behind him, 
and went and sat down by her side. 

“ What now ? ” she inquired, looking up. 

What now ? Why, all is lost unless we act promptly I 
said it.” 

Faustina, she has missed Katie ! ” 

That was a matter of course.” 

‘‘ But she suspects her fate.” 

What care we what she suspects ? She can prove nothing,” 
said Mrs. Dugald contemptuously. 

Faustina, she can prove everything if she follows up the clew 
she has found. Listen. She was in the hall, near the door, 
when the deed was done! She heard the struggle and the cry 
and a part of our conversation.” 

“We shall all be guillotined ! ” cried the woman, starting 
to her feet and standing before him in deadly terror. 

“We have no guillotining in England ; but hanging is equally 
or even more disagreeable.” 

“ How can you talk so when my bones are turning to gristle 
and my heart to jelly with the fright ! ” cried Mrs. Dugald. 


224 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

“ I jest to reassure you. If we act with promptitude there 
will be no danger; not in the least. I have thrown her off the 
scent for the present; I have told her that the noise, the strug- 
gle, the cry, and the exclamation she heard were nothing but 
this — that you were suffering from an attack of hysterics, and 
that I was -trying to control and soothe you. I told her that 
I knew nothing whatever of the fate of her gorilla; and I did 
not spare the most solemn oaths to assure her of the truth of 
my statement.” , ? 

Good! but was she assured? ” ‘ - 

“Not fully. She is confused, bewildered, perplexed, thrown 
out of her reckoning and off the track; and before she has time 
to recover herself, collect her faculties, and get upon the scent 
again, we must act. We must draw the net around her. We 
must place her in a position in which her character as a wit- 
ness against you would be totally vitiated. To do this we must 
hasten the denouement of the plot.” 

“ That plot which will rid me of my rival and make me — me 
— Lady Vincent! ” exclaimed the siren, her sparkling with 
anticipated triumph. 

“ Yes, my angel, yes ! And I would it were to-morrow ! ” 

“Ah, but, in the meaiiwhile, if I should be found out and 
guillotined ! ” she cried, with a shudder. 

“Hanged, my angel, hanged; not guillotined! I told you 
we do nol‘\uillotine people in England.” 

“ Ah — h — h ! ” shrieked the guilty woman, covering her face 
with her hands. 

“But I tell you there is no danger, my love; none at all, if 
we do but act promptly and firmly. The time is ripe. The plot 
is ripe. She herself walks into the trap, by insisting on stay- 
ing at home this evening, instead of accompanying us to the 
theater. I have sent the carriage for Mrs. MacDonald. She, 
will come to luncheon with us, and afterwards go with us to] 
the play. My lady will remain at home, by her own request.” 

“ Does Frisbie know the part he is to play ? ” 

“Yes; but not the precise hour of his debut. That I shall 
teach him to-day. He will be well up in his lesson by this 
evening, you may depend.” 

“ Ah, then we shall finish the work to-night ! ” 

“We shall finish it to-night.” 

“But Mrs. MacDonald — ^will she not he in the way?” 

“No; as I shall arrange matters, she will be of the greatest 


A NIGHT OF HORROR. 


225 


use and help to us, without knowing it. First, as a most re- 
spectable chaperon for you, and, secondly, as a most indubit- 
able witness of the fall of Lady Vincent.” 

“ Good! good! I see! To-night, then, she shall be cast down 
from her proud pedestal. And to-morrow ” 

“ To-morrow she shall be dismissed from the castle.” 

“ But then I shall have to go, too. I could not stay — the 
world would talk.” 

“ISTo, Faustina, you,, shall not go. I shall go and leave you 
here, and invite Mrs. MacDonald to remain and bear you com- 
pany until — until I shall be free, my angel, to return and make 
you my wife.” 

She clapped her hands with great gl6e and eagerly demanded : 

“ And when will that be ? Oh, when will that be ? How 
soon ? how soon ? ” 

“ It may be weeks ; it may be months ; for the Divorce 
Courts are proverbially slow. But the time will come at length ; 
for I have taken every measure to insure perfect success.” 


CHAPTER 

A NIGHT OF HORROR. 

He threw his sting into a poisonous libel 
And on the honor of — oh God! — his wife, 

The nearest, dearest part of all men’s honor, 

Left a base slur to pass from mouth to mouth, 

Of loose mechanics with all foul comments, 

Of villainous jests and blasphemies obscene; 

While sneering nobles in more polished guise 
Whispered the tale and smiled upon the lie. 

— Byroa. 

Claudia passed a weary day. She did not celseln her efforts 
to discover some clew to the disappearance of ofa Katie. But 
all her efforts were fruitless of success. 

Early in the afternoon the carriage that was sent for Mrs. 
MacDonald return^, bringing that lady. 

Claudia did not^o down into the drawing room to receive 
her; she considered Mrs. Dugald’s companion, whate'^er her 
pretensions might be, no proper associate for Lady Vincent. 
She met the visitor, however, at dinner, which was served some 
hours earlier than usual in order to give the play-going party 
time enough to reach their destination before the rising ‘‘of the 


226 self-eaised; ok, ekom the depths. 

curtain. She found Mrs. MacDonald to be a thin, pale, shabby 
woman, about forty years of age; one of those poor, harmless, 
complacent creatures who, when they can do so without break- 
ing any law of God or man, are willing to compromise a good 
deal of their self-respect to secure privileges which they could 
not otherwise enjoy. 

And though Mrs. MacDonald was a descendant of the re- 
nowned “ Lords of the Isles,’’ and was as proud of her lineage as 
any aristocrat alive, yet she did not hesitate to accept an invi- 
tation to go to the theater with Lord Vincent, who was called 
a “fast” man, and Mrs. Dugald, who was mo-re than a sus- 
pected woman. Claudia treated this lady with the cold polite- 
ness that the latter could neither enjoy nor complain of. Im- 
mediately after dinner the party left for Banff. 

Dew good women have ever been so distressingly misplaced 
as Claudia was; therefore few could understand the hourly 
torture she suffered from the mere presence of her vicious com- 
panions, or the infinite sense of relief she felt in being rid of 
them, if only for one evening. She felt the atmosphere the 
purer for their absence, and breathed more freely than she had 
done for many days. 

She soon left the drd:s^dng room, whose atmosphere was in- 
fected and disturbed wifE memories of Mrs. Dugald, and re- 
tired to her own boudoir, where all was comparatively pure and 
peaceful. 

A deep bay-window from this room overhung the sea. There 
was a softly cushioned semicircular sofa around this window, 
and a round mosaic table within it. 

Claudia drew aside the golden-brown curtains and sat dovm 
to watch the gray expanse of ocean, over which the night was 
now closing. ^ 

While ga^ng abstractedly out at sea she was thinking of 
Katie. Ko's^lBiat the darkening infiuence of Mrs. Dugald’s 
and Lord Vincent’s presence was withdravm from her sphere, 
she was enabled to think clearly and decide firmly. Mow that 
the viscount no longer stood before her, exercising his diaboli- 
cal powers of duplicity upon her judgment, she no longer be- 
lieved his protestations of ignorance in regard to Katie’s fate. 
On the contrary, she felt convinced that he knew all about it. 
She did not now suppose, what her first frenzied terrors had sug- 
gested^ That Katie had been murdered, but that she had been 
abducted, or confined, to prevent her from divulging some secret 


A NIGHT OF HORROR. 


227 


to the prejudice of the viscount of which she had become pos- 
sessed. For Claudia had read the viscount’s character aright, 
and she knew that though he would not hesitate to break every 
commandment in the Decalogue when he could do so with im- 
punity, yet he would not commit any crime that would jeopar- 
dize his own life or liberty. Therefore she knew he had noi 
murdered Katie; but she believed that he had “sequestrated” 
her in some way. 

Having come to this conclusion, Claudia next considered 
what her own duty was in the premises. Clearly it was for 
her to take every measure for the deliverance of her faithful 
servant, no matter how difficult or repugnant those measures 
should be. 

Therefore she resolved that early the next morning she would 
order the carriage and go on her own responsibility and lodge 
information with the police of the mysterious disappearance 
of her servant and the suspicious circumstances that attended 
her evanishment. Claudia knew that the eye of the police was 
still on the castle, because it was believed to hold the unde- 
tected murderer of Ailsie Dunbar, and that, therefore, their 
action upon the present event would be prompt and keen. She 
knew, also, that the investigation would bring much exposure 
and scandal to the castle and its inmates; and that it would 
enrage Lord Vincent and result in the final separation of her- 
self and the viscount. But why, she asked herself, should she 
hesitate on that account? 

The price for which she had sold herself had not been paid. 
She had her empty title, but no position. She was not a peeress 
among peeresses ; not a queen of beauty and of fashion, leading 
the ffiite of society in London. Ah, no ! she was a despised and 
neglected wife, wasting the flower of her youth in a remote and 
dreary coast castle, and daily insulted and degraded by the 
presence of an unprincipled rival. 

Claudia was by this time so worn out in body and spirit, so 
thoroughly wearied and sickened of her life in the castle, that 
she only desired to get away with her servants and pass the re- 
mainder of her days in peaceful obscurity. 

And her contemplated act of complaining to the authorities 
was to be her first step towards that end. Having resolved upon 
this measure, Claudia felt more at ease. She drew the curtains 
of her window, and seated herself in her favorite easy-chair 
before the bright, sea-coal fire, and rang for tea. Sally brought 


228 self-raised; or, from the dei^ihs. 

the waiter up to her mistress, and remained in attendance upon 
her. 

“ Has anything been heard of Katie yet ? ” inquired Lady 
Vincent. 

“ Ko, ma’am, nothing at all,” answered Sally through her 
sobs. 

“ Don’t cry ; tell them when you go down, to keep up the 
search through the neighborhood ; and if she is not forthcoming 
before to-morrow morning, I will take such steps as shall insure 
her discovery,” said Lady Vincent, as she sipped her tea. 

Sally only wept in reply. 

“Remove this service now. And you need not come up 
again this evening unless you have news to bring me of Katie, 
for I need to be alone,” said Lady Vincent, as she sat her empty 
cup upon the waiter. 

Sally took the service from the room. 

And the viscountess wheeled her chair around to the fire, 
placed her feet upon the fender, and yielded her wearied and 
distracted spirit up to the healing and soothing infiuences of 
night and solitude. As she sat there, the words of a beautiful 
hymn glided into her memory. Often before this evening, lying 
alone and wakeful upon her bed, — feeling the great blessing 
night brought her, in isolating her entirely from her evil com- 
panions, and drawing her into a purer sphere, feeling all the 
sweet and holy influences of night around her, — she had soothed 
her spirit to rest repeating the words of Mr. Longfellow’s hymn : 

** From the cool cisterns of the midnight air 
My spirit drinks repose; 

The fountains of perpetual peace flows there, 

From those deep cisterns flows. 

Oh, Holy Night! from thee I learn to bear 
What souls have borne before. 

Thou lay’st thy fingers on the lips of care 
And they complain no more. 

Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer, 

Descend with broad-winged flight, 

The welcome, the thrice prayed-for, the most fair, 

The best beloved Night! ” 

She repeated it now. And it soothed her like a benediction. 

A solitary night in her own boudoir would not seem to prom- 
ise much enjoyment; yet Claudia was happier, because more 
peaceful now than she had ever been since her first arriv^ 
at Castle Cragg. 


A NIGHT OF HORROR. 


229 


She sat on, letting the hours pass calmly and silently over 
her, until the clock struck ten. Then to her surprise she heard 
a knocking at the outer hall door, followed by the sound of an 
arrival, and of many footsteps hastening up the stairs. 

Claudia arose to her feet in astonishment, and at the same 
moment heard the voice of the viscount without, saying in 
ruffianly tones: 

“ Burst open the door then ! Don’t you see it is locked on 
the inside ? ” 

And with a violent kick the door of Claudia’s boudoir, which 
certainly was not locked, was thrown open, and Lord Vincent, 
with inflamed cheeks and blood-shot eyes, strode into the room, 
followed by Mrs. Dugald, Mrs. MacDonald, and old Cuthbert. 

“ Keep the door, sir ! Let no one pass out ! ” roared the vis- 
count to his butler, who immediately shut the door and pfaced 
himself against it. 

“ My lord ! ” exclaimed Claudia, in indignant amazement, 

what is the meaning of this violence ? ” 

“ It means, my lady, that you are discovered, run to earth, 
entrapped, cunning vixen as you are ! ” exclaimed the viscount, 
with an air of vindictive triumph. 

Mrs. Dugald laughed scornfully. 

Mrs. MacDonald turned up her chin contemptuously. 

Old Cuthbert groaned aloud. 

Claudia looked from one to the other, and then said: 

“ My lord, you and your friends appear to have been supping 
on very bad wine; I would counsel you to retire and sleep off 
its effects.” 

“Ha, ha, my lady! You take things coolly! I compliment 
you on your self-possession ! ” sneered the viscount. 

Her heart nearly bursting with anger, Claudia threw herself 
into her chair, and with difficulty controlling her emotions, 
said: 

“ Will your lordship do me the favor to explain your errand in 
this room, and then retire with your party as speedily as pos- 
sible?” 

“ Certainly, my lady, that is but reasonable, and is also just 
what I intended to do,” said the viscount, bowing with mock 
courtesy. 

And he drew a letter from his pocket and held it in his hand, 
while he continued to speak, addressing himself now to the 
whole party assembled in Lady Vincent’s boudoir. 


230 SELF-EAISED ; OB, FEOM THE DEPTHS. 

“It is necessary to premise, friends, that my marriage with 
this lady was a hasty, ill-advised, and inconsiderate one; un- 
acceptable to my family, unfortunate for myself, humiliating 
in its results. For some weeks past my suspicions were aroused 
to the fact that all was not right between the viscountess and 
another member of my establishment. Cuthbert, keep that 
door ! Let no one rush past ! ” 

“ Ah, me laird ; dinna fash yoursel’ ! I’ll keep it ! ” groaned 
the old man, putting his back firmly against the door. 

“ Lord Vincent,” exclaimed Claudia haughtily, “ I demand 
that you retract your words. You know them to be as false — 
as false as — yourself. They could not be falser than that ! ” 

“ I will prove every word that I have spoken to be true ! ” 
replied the viscount. Then continuing his story, he said: 
“ This morning certain circumstances strengthened my sus- 
picions. Among others the persistence with which her ladyship, 
though in good health, and with no other engagement at hand, 
resolved and adhered to her resolution to remain at home and 
miss the rare opportunity of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Dean in their 
great parts of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth. Suspecting that her 
ladyship had some unlawful design in thus denying herself an 
amusement of which I know her to be excessively fond, and 
preferring to spend the evening at home, of which I know she 
is excessively tired, I ordered my faithful old servant, Cuth- 
bert, to watch — not his mistress. Lady Vincent, but another in- 
dividual ” 

Here old Cuthbert interrupted the speaker with deep groans. 

Claudia remained sitting in her chair, with her face as pale 
as death, her teeth firmly set, and her eyes fiercely fixed upon 
the face of the man who was thus maligning her honor. 

He continued: 

“How well my suspicions were founded, and how faith- 
fully old Cuthbert has performed his duty, you will soon see. 
It appears that we had but just started on our drive, when 
Cuthbert, watching the motions of the suspected person, saw 
him steal towards Lady Vincent’s apartments. The old man 
glided after him, and, unseen himself, saw him, the miscreant, 
enter Lady Vincent’s boudoir.” 

“It is as false as Satan! Oh, you infamous wretch, what 
form of punisliment would be ignominious enough for you ! 
cried Claudia, springing to her feet, her eyes flaming with con- 
suming wrath. 


A NIGHT OF HOEROR. 231 

But the viscount approached and laid his hand upon her 
shoulder, and forced her down into her seat again. 

And Claudia, too proud to resist, where resistance would be 
but a vain, unseemly struggle, dropped into her chair and sat 
perfectly still — a marble statue, with eyes of flame. 

The viscount, with fiendish coolness, continued: 

“ Cuthbert watched and listened on the outside of the door 
for some time, and then, thinking that the intruder had no in- 
tention of leaving the room, he went and wrote a note, and 
sent it by one of the grooms, mounted on a swift horse, to me. 
Ladies, you both saw the boy enter the theater and hand me this 
note. Your interest was aroused, but I only told you that I 
was summoned in haste to my lady’s apartments, and begged 
you to come with me ” 

‘^And I thought her ladyship was perhaps ill, and needed 
experienced help, or I should cert^nly not have followed your 
lordship into this room,” said Mrs. MacDonald, who, however, 
made no motion to withdraw. 

Mrs. Dugald’s insulting laugh rang through the room. 

beg pardon, madam; I know this is not a pleasant scene 
for a lady to take part in, but I needed witnesses, and neces- 
sity has no law. If you will peraiit me, I will read the note 
I received,” said the viscount, with a diabolical sneer, as he un- 
folded the paper. He read as follows: 

^ It is a’ as your lairdship suspicioned. If your lairdship will 
come your ways hame at ance, you will find the sinful pair in 
me leddy’s boudoir.’ ” 

The note had neither name nor date. 

“ You know,” pursued Lord Vincent, “ that we hurried home; 
you saw me speak aside with Cuthbert in the hall ; in that short 
interview he informed me that he had remained upon the 
watch, and that the villain had not yet left Lady Vincent’s 
apartments ; that he was still within them ! ” 

Oh, Cuthbert ! I believed you to be an honest old man ! It 
is awful to find you in league with these wretches ! ” exclaimed 
Claudia, in sorrowful indignation. 

Ou, me leddy ! I’d rather these auld limbs o’ mine had been 
streaket in death, ere I had to use them in siccan uncanny 
wark ! But the Lord’s will be dune ! ” groaned the old man, in 
such sincere grief that Claudia was thoroughly perplexed. 


232 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

And all this time the viscount was continuing his cool, devil- 
ish monologue. 

“It was for this reason, ladies, that I burst open the door 
and called you in; and it was to prevent the escape of the fel- 
low that I plac^ Cuthbert on guard at the door. Now, my lady, 
that you understand the cause of the Violence’ of which you 
just now complained, you will please to permit me to search 
the room. You cannot complain that I have acted with un- 
seemly haste. I have proceeded with great deliberation. In 
fact, your accomplice has had abundant time to escape, if he had 
the means.” 

“ Lord Vincent, these outrages shall cost you your life ! ” 
exclaimed Claudia, in the low, deep, stem key of concentrated 
passion. 

“ All in good time, my lady,” sneered the viscount, commenc- 
ing the humiliating search. He looked in the recess of the 
bay window; peeped behind curtains; opened closets; and 
finally drew a large easy-chair from the corner of the room. 

“Pray, whom do you expect to find concealed in my apart- 
ment, my lord ? ” demanded Claudia, white with rage. 

“ My respectable valet, the good Mr. F risbie. And here he 
is ! ” replied the viscount sarcastically. 

And to Claudia’s horror and amazement he drew the trem- 
bling wretch from his concealment and hurled him into the cen- 
ter of the room, where he stood with dangling arms and bend- 
ing legs, pale and quaking, but whether with real or assumed 
fear Claudia could not tell. 

“ How came this fellow in my room ? ” she demanded, in con- 
sternation. 

“Aye, sure enough! how did he come here?” sneered Lord 
Vincent. 

Mrs. Dugald laughed. 

Mrs. MacDonald raised both her hands in horror. 

“ Come I perhaps he’ll tell us why he came here ! Confess, 
you scoundrel 1 Say what brought you here ! ” exclaimed the 
Tiscount, suddenly changing his tone from cool irony to burn- 
ing rage, as he seized and shook his valet. 

“ Oh, my lord, I will ! I will ! only let go my collar ! ” gasped 
the man, shaking or affecting to shake. 

“Confess, then, you rascal! What brought you here?” 

“ Oh, my lord, mercy ! mercy ! I will confess ! I will ! ” 

“ Do it, then, you villain ! ” 


A NIGHT OF HOREOR. 233 

Oh, my lord, I — I come — at — at my lady’s invitation, my 
lord!” 

“You came at Lady Vincent’s invitation?” cried the vis- 
count, shaking the speaker. 

“ Y-y-yes, my lord 1 ” stammered the valet. 

“You — came — at my invitation?” demanded Lady Vincent 
haughtily, fixing her eyes of fire on the creature’s face. 

“ Yes, my lady, you know I did 1 It is no use for us to deny 
it now 1 Ah, my lady, I always warned you that we should be 
found out, and now sure enough we are ! ” replied Frisbie. 

Claudia clasped her hands and raised her eyes to Heaven 
with the look of one who would have called down fire upon the 
heads of these fiends in human form. 

Lord Vincent continued to question his valet. 

“ Does Lady Vincent make a practice of inviting you to her 
apartments ? ” 

“ Y-y-yes, my lord 1 ” 

“ How often?” 

“ Wh-wh- whenever your .lordship’s absence seems to make it 
safe.” 

“ Then I am to understand that you are a favored suitor of 
Lady Vincent’s?” 

“ Yes, yes, my lord ! Oh, my lord, I know I have done very 
wrong. I know I ” 

“ Do you know that you deserve death, sir ? ” demanded the 
viscount, in a voice of thunder. 

“ Oh, my lord, mercy ! mercy ! I know I am a great sinner I 
I could kill myself for it, if it wasn’t for fear of losing my soul I 
All I can do now is to repent and confess! I do repent from 
the bottom of my heart; and I will confess everything! Yes, 
I will tell your lordship all about it and throw myself on your 
lordship’s mercy ! ” cried this remorseless villain. 

“ Enough ! I wish to hear no more from you just at present. 
Your confession would be scarcely fit for the ears of these 
ladies. Your testimony must be reserved for a future occasion,” 
said the viscount. And then turning to Claudia with the coolest 
and most insulting hauteur, he said: 

“ And now ! what have you to say to all this, my lady ? ” 

Claudia advanced into the center of the room; her step was 
firm; her head erect; her cheeks burning; her eyes blazing; 
her whole form dilated and lifted to grandeur ; she looked a very 
I^emesis — a very Goddess of Ketributive Justice, as throwing 


234 self-eaised; ok, from the depths. 

her consuming glance around upon the group, who fairly 
quailed before her, she said: 

“ What have ‘ I to say to all this ^ ? I say. Lord Vincent, be 
assured that you shall die for these insults ! I say that I know 
this to be a foul conspiracy against my honor, and as feeble 
as it is foul! Oh, reptiles! base, venomous reptiles! Do you 
really suppose that the honor of a pure woman is of such a 
weak and sickly nature as to be destroyed by the poison of your 
calumnies? Fools! I shall leave this place for London to- 
morrow! I shall go at once to the American Legation and see 
our American minister, who is an old friend of my father. I 
will tell him all that has taken place and come to my knowledge, 
since I have lived under this accursed and polluted roof. I will 
advise with him as to the best measures to be taken for the dis- 
covery of my poor old servant, Katie, and for the unmasking 
and prosecuting to conviction the wretches who have conspired 
against my honor. What ! I am the daughter of Randolph Mer- 
lin! The blood of an Indian king, who never spared a foe, 
bums along my veins! Take heed — beware — escape while 
you may! My lord, your fate shall find you, even though 
it follow you to the farthest ends of the earth! You are 
warned! And now, as a few moments since, my request that 
you would withdraw your accomplices from the room was dis- 
regarded, I must retire to my chamber.” 

And with the air and manner of an outraged queen, Claudia 
left the boudoir. 

“Friends,” said Lord Vincent, turning to his female com- 
panions, “your testimony will be hereafter required in this 
case. I b^ you, therefore, in the name of justice, to make a 
mental note of what you have seen and heard to-night. Re- 
member Lady Vincent’s strange conduct in declining to accom- 
pany us to the theater and resolving to stay at home; remem- 
ber the note that was brought me in my box and our unexpected 
return home; remember particularly that the door leading into 
Lady Vincent’s apartments was fastened on the inside, and that 
I had to break it open; remember also that we four^d the 
wretch, Frisbie, concealed in the room, and that he made a full 
confession.” 

“ It is not likely that we shall forget it, my lord ! ” said Mrs. 
MacDonald gravely. 

“Ko! what horror!” cried Mrs. Dugald. 

“ And now, ladies, I will no longer detain you from your neces- 


A NIGHT OF HOEROE. 


S35 


sary rest,” said the viscount, ringing the bell, which the house- 
keeper, looking amazed, scandalized, and full of curiosity, an- 
swered. 

“ Murdock, show this lady, Mrs. MacDonald, to the blue suite 
of rooms, and place yourself at her service. Marfam, pray order 
any refreshments you may require. Good-night, madam. Sis- 
ter, good-night ! ” 

“ Good-night ! good-night, my lord ! I shall pray that you 
shall be able to bear this great misfortune with the fortitude 
becoming a man,” said Mrs. MacDonald. 

“ Good-night, brother ! ” said Mrs. Dugald. 

When the “ ladies,” attended by the housekeeper, had left the 
room and were quite out of hearing. Lord Vincent turned to 
his accomplice and whispered: 

’'^You did that capitally, Frisbie. You would make an ex- 
cellent actor. Anyone on earth, looking at you this evening and 
not knowing the truth, would have thought you were dying of 
mortification and terror — you shook and faltered so naturally.” 

“ Oh, my lord ! ” returned the valet, in modest deprecation of 
this praise. 

“You did; but now I wish you to tell me. How did you 
manage to awaken the suspicions of old Cuthbert? How did 
you manage to draw his eyes upon you — and draw him on 
to watch you until you entered the room without seeming to 
know that you were watched ? ” 

“ I tell you, my lord, that part of my task was hard. But I 
contrived to do it by pretending to watch him, and affecting 
to dodge out of sight every time he saw me. This excited his 
curiosity, and caused him to conceal himself in order to watch 
me. When I knew that he had done this, I began to creep to- 
wards my lady’s apartments, knowing full well that he was 
stealing after me.” 

“But how did you contrive to get into the boudoir?” 

“ I wore list slippers, and your lordship knows that the thick 
carpets return no echo to the footstep, and that the doors open 
and shut silently. First I peeped through the keyhole, and I 
saw that her ladyship was sitting within the curtained^ recess 
of the bay window, looking out at sea, her attention being ab- 
sorbed there, and her back being towards the door.^ So I just 
softly opened the door, entered the room, closing it after me, 
and concealed myself behind your lordship’s own great easy- 
chair, that I knew was never dravm from its dark corner.” 


236 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

“ For the good reason that the owner is never there to occupy 
it,” sneered the viscount. 

J ust so, my lord. And now I have told your lordship ex- 
actly how I managed matters, so as to make old Cuthbert our 
accomplice without his ever suspecting it.” 

“ Old Cuthbert must think you a grand rascal.” 

He does me great honor, your lordship.” 

There! now go about your business, Frisbie. Of course 
you must get away from here by the morning’s first light. It 
must be supposed that you have been kicked out. Remain in 
the neighborhood of Banff. You will be wanted as a witness.” 

“Yes, my lord; but in the meantime — I have saved nothing. 
I have no means.” 

“Oh, you mercenary rascal! You have saved your neck 
from the gallows, if you have saved nothing else. But here are 
ten pounds for present needs; and I will take care not to see 
you want for the future. How be off with you. Your longer 
stay will excite surprise and conjecture.” 

“ Your lordship is too good ! ” said the caitiff, bowing himself 
out. 

Lord Vincent soon after left the boudoir and went down- 
stairs. In the hall he found old Cuthbert up and waiting. 

“You here yet, Cuthbert? Why don’t you go to bed?” 

“ Ou, me laird, I couldna sleep wi’ the thought o’ siccan 
dishonor bef a’ing the house ! ” groaned the old man. 

“ The dishonor attaches but to one person, and the house 
will be rid of it when she is cast forth,” said the viscount. 

“ Ou, me laird ! for pity, dinna do that ! Send her ways back 
to her ain countrie. She’s but a wee bit lassie after a’! And 
she’s awa’ fra fayther and mither, and a’ her folk! And ’deed 
I canna bring mysel’ to think that ill o’ her, neither ! ’deed no ! ” 

“ Cuthbert, are you out of your senses ? What are you talk- 
ing about? The man was found concealed in her room, and 
being discovered, confessed his guilt,” said Lord Vincent. 

“Aye, me laird, but she denied all knowledge of him; and 
she looked grand wi’ the majesty of truth, me laird. Folk 
dinna look that way when they’re leeing. And the lad Frisbie 
looked just as if he were leeing. Folk dinna look as he looked 
when they’re telling the truth.” 

“Cuthbert, you are an old dolt! We do not depend on Fris- 
bie’s word, exclusively. We have the fact of finding him in 
the room.” 


A NIGHT OF HORROR. 


237 

I misdoubt be e’en just hid himsel’ in there for the purpose 
of robbery, unbeknownst to the leddy. And then cast the blame 
on her to help to shield himseF, the villain ! ” 

Cuthbert, you are in your dotage ! ” exclaimed the viscount 
angrily. 

“It may be sae, my laird; but I canna think sharpe o’ the 
leddy ! Nay, I canna ! Howbeit ! richt or wrang, the shame has 
come till her. Sae, me laird, in marcy take an auld man’s 
counsel, and e’en just gie her her dower, and send her her ways 
to her feyther’s house.” 

“ Cuthbert, your brain is softening. Hark ye ! Get yourself 
off to bed.” 

“ Aye, me laird,” said the old man meekly, as he withdrew to 
his den ; “ but I canna think sin o’ the leddy ! nay, nay, I 
canna ! ” 

When all the house was still Lord Vincent stole to the apart- 
ments of Mrs. Dugald. 

“ Oh ! I have been waiting for you so long and so impa- 
tiently,” she said, as she placed him a chair at her dressing- 
room fireside. 

“I came as soon as all was quiet. Oh, Faustina, how I am 
sinking my soul in sin and infamy for your sake ! ” exclaimed 
Lord Vincent, as a momentary qualm of shame sickened his 
heart. 

“ Do you repent it, then ? ” she inquired, with a glance that 
brought him to her feet, a slave once more, “ do you repent it ? ” 

“No, my angel, no! though we go to perdition, we go to- 
gether! And it is joy and glory to lose myself for you — for 
you ! ” he exclaimed passionately, and attempting to embrace 
her. 

“Ha! stop! beware! You are not free yet — nor am I your 
wife ! ” exclaimed the artful woman, withdrawing herself from 
his advances. 

“ But I shall be free soon, and you shall he my wife. You 
know it, Faustina. You know that I am your slave. You can do 
with me as you please. Then why be so cruel as to refuse me 
even one kiss ? ” 

“ That I may have nothing to reproach myself with in after 
time — when I shall be Lady Vincent. That you may not have 
to blush for your second viscountess, as you have had to blush 
for your first.” 

“ Oh, Faustina, how coldly cruel and calculating you some- 


238 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

times seem to me! Why do I love you so insanely that you 
possess my very soul ? Why is it, beautiful witch ? ” 

“ Because I love you so much, mon ami.” 

You do, you do! You really love me, ’Tina?” 

Oh, I do! You know I do! more than life! ” 

“ Then let Satan have me after death ! I do not care ! ” re- 
plied this desperate fool. 

“ Hush ! this is a dangerous topic. It makes me reel. Give 
me a glass of water, Malcolm, and let us talk of something 
else,” said the wily siren. 

When she had drunk the water the viscount brought her she 
said: 

“ There is a question I have been dying to ask you all day, 
but I could get no good chance without the risk of being over- 
heard — and that would have been ruin.” 

“What is the question, Faustina?” 

The woman turned so deadly white that her black eyes 
gleamed like great balls of jet from a face of stone, as sinking 
her voice to the lowest key, she said: 

“ What have you done with it ? ” 

“ With what, Faustina ? ” 

“With the dead body of the black woman?” 

The viscount slowly lowered his finger and significantly 
pointed downward. 

“ Down there ? ” whispered Faustina. 

The viscount nodded. 

“Where we left it?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Oh, but that is not safe. There is suspicion. Suppose 
there should be a search; suppose there should be a discovery ; ’ 
cried the woman in alarm. For she, who was not afraid of 
committing the worst crimes, was terribly afraid of meeting 
their consequences. 

“ Be at ease. I shall not leave her there long ; the sea is 
near at hand,” whispered the viscount. 

“Yes, you may cast her into the sea; but the sea sometimes 
casts back its dead — especially when they have been murdered,” 
shuddered the woman. 

“ The sea will not cast her back,” said the viscount signifi- 
cantly. 

“Oh, you will tie a heavy weight to her body! But when 
will you do it? Oh, I am in agony, until that is removed! ” 


A NIGHT OF HORROE. 239 

“ Be still ! I hope to have an opportunity of removing it to- 
night.” 

“But you cannot do it alone. Let me help you. I would 
rather help you.” 

“No, I can and will do it without your help. Do you think, 
my angel, that I would permit you to engage in such dreadful 
work ? ” 

“ I helped you to stop her breath,” said the woman hoarsely. 

“ That was a work of necessity that presented itself sud- 
denly before us. This is different.” 

“ But I would rather help. I would rather be present. I 
would rather see, for then I should know to a certainty that 
it was gone,” she insisted. 

“ Can you not trust me ? ” 

“No, no, I cannot trust anyone when my head is in danger 
of the guillotine.” 

“ I tell you there are no guillotines in England.” 

“ The other thing, then, which is worse, because it is more 
disgraceful. Hanging by the neck until one is dead! Ugh! 
No, I cannot trust you, Malcolm, where so much is at stake,” 
said the woman, with a terrible shudder. 

“You have no confidence in me then? And yet you say you 
love me. Why, confidence is the very soul of love.” 

“ Oh, yes, I love you, Malcolm. I love you more than words 
can tell. And it is for your safety as well as for my own that 
I am so cautious. And I have confidence in you, Malcolm. 
Only, being alone, you may not be able to do the work effec- 
tually. I must help you. The house is all still; everybody has 
retired ; can we not go now and remove it ? ” 

“No, not now; there is a vessel lying at anchor close under 
the shore. We must wait until she moves off.” 

“And the vessel may lay there a whole week. And in the 
meantime what becomes of the body?” exclaimed Faustina, 
her eyes wild with apprehension. 

“I am assured by those who know, that the vessel will sail 
with the first tide to-morrow morning. So be tranquil. And 
now, Faustina, there is another subject which we must settle 
to-night. Lady Vincent leaves the castle early to-morrow morn- 
ing. That is necessary; and though it cleaves my heart in two 
to part with you, I^ust do it for a season. The world must 
have no cause to falk of you and me, Faustina; of you, es- 
pecially, for of you it would be the most likely to talk.” 


240 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

“ Why of me ? ” inquired the ex-opera singer testily. 

“ Because, my dearest, you have more beauty and genius and 
fame than the world ever forgives in a woman,” answered the 
viscount artfully. 

“ Oh ! ” said the siren, with an air of arch incredulity. 

‘^And now, Faustina, it shall be for you to decide. Shall 
you remain here, with Mrs. MacDonald for a companion and 
chaperon, while I go to London to take the preliminary steps 
towards the divorce; or shall you go to Brighton or Tor- 
quay, or any other watering-place on the South Coast ? ” 

Mrs. Dugald was very astute; she answered promptly: 

“ Oh, I will remain here. And then you will not be jealous. 
There is no one here to admire me except Mrs. MacDonald and 
old Cuthbert and Murdock.” 

Bless you! Bless you! I do believe you love me because 
you anticipate my wishes so readily,” said this devotee fer- 
vently. 

“ And now you must go, and say good-night ! It is two o’clock 
in the morning and I am tired to death. And mind about that 
below, you know. And the first safe opportunity you have, 
come to me to help you remove it. Mind!” said Faustina, 
raising her finger. 

^‘1 will mind. Good-night! What, no kiss, even for good- 
night ? ” he said, as she recoiled from his offered salute. 

“ISTo. I reserve my kisses for my husband,” she answered 
archly. Thus this evil woman, steeped to the lips in sin, af- 
fected the prude with the man she wished to secure. And while 
making and receiving the most ardent protestations of love, 
disallowed the very slightest caress. 

The viscount, baffled and dissatisfied, but more determined 
than ever to marry this tantalizing beauty, left the room and 
retired to his own chamber. 

Mr. Frisbie’s work was over there, and Mr. Frisbie himself 
was absent, of course. 


THE CASTLE VAULT, 


241 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


THE CAGTLE VAULT. 

It was more dark and lone, that vault, 

Than the worst dungeon cell, 

A hermit built it for his fault. 

In penitence to dwell: 

This den, which chilling every sense 
Of feeling, hearing, sight. 

Was called the Vault of Penitence, 

Excluding air and light. 

’Twas by an ancient prelate made 
The place of burial for such dead 
As having died in mortal sin 
Might not be laid the church within. 

’Twas next a place of punishment; 

Where if so loud a shriek were sent. 

As reached the upper air. 

The hearers blessed themselves and said 
The spirits of the sinful dead 
Bemoaned their torments there. 

—Scott. 

There was opening from Lord Vincent’s dressing room a 
hay window, having a balcony on the outside, overhanging the 
sea. ’ The viscount took a night telescope, opened the window, 
and stepped out upon the balcony. He adjusted the glass and 
swept the coast. Nothing was to be seen but the solitary ves- 
sel that lay at anchor almost under the castle walls. 

The coast is clear,” said the viscount to himself, as he re- 
entered the room and replaced the telescope. 

Then wrapping himself in a large maud and pulling a slouched 
hat over his eyes, he left the room, descended the stairs and 
went out. 

He took the way down to the sands at the extreme base of 
the promontory. The path that led down the side of the cliff 
was steep, slippery, and very dangerous even at noonday. And 
this was one of the darkest hours of the night that precedes the 
dawn. And the path was more perilous than ever. But the 
viscount was Highland-bred, and his step was as sure on the 
steep mountain edge as on the level plain. He reached the 
foot of the precipice in safety and stood upon the sands and 
drew from his pocket a small whistle, which he placed to his 
lips and blew a shrill .call. 

It was answered from the vessel at anchor. And soon a boat 
was put off from her side, and rowed swiftly to the shore. 


242 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

Is that you, Costo ? ” inquired the viscount of the man who 
jumped ashore. 

‘‘No, sehor; it is Paolo.” 

“The mate?” 

“Yes, senor.” 

“Where is Costo?” 

“ On board the vessel, senor.” 

“ What have you brought this time ? ” 

“ Cuban tobacco, Jamaica spirits, and some rich West Indian 
fabrics for ladies’ dresses. A cask of spirits and a box of cigars 
have gone up to the castle. Old Mr. Cuthbert took them in.” 

“ All right ; but I have some business now at hand that Cuth- 
bert must know nothing about. For instance, he is in ignor- 
ance, and must remain in ignorance, of my visit to the beach 
to-night.” 

“We can be silent as the grave, senor.” 

“Have you had any trouble from the coastguard?” 

“ No, sehor ; how could we ? Is not your excellency the pro- 
tector of the poor?” 

The viscount laughed. 

“ It is true,” he said, “ that the guards at the nearest station 
are in my power, and know better than to pry too closely into 
the concerns of any vessels that run into my castle cove; but 
beyond their domain I cannot protect you; so be cautious.” 

“ We are cautious, sehor. So cautious that we shall sail with 
the first tide.” 

“For Havana?” 

“For Havana, sehor.” 

“Well, now I wish you to take me to the vessel. I must 
see the captain.” 

“ Surely, sehor,” said the obsequious mate, as the viscount 
stepped into the boat. 

“ Give way, men ! Back to the brigantine,” said the mate. 
And the men laid themselves to their oars, and soon reached the 
vessel’s side. 

Lord Vincent was received with the greatest respect by the 
captain, who came obsequiously to the starboard gangway to 
meet him. 

“ Let us go into your cabin at once, Costo ; I have business to 
discuss with you,” said the viscount. ^ 

“ Surely, sehor,” replied the captain, leading the way down 
to a small, snug cabin. 


THE CASTLE VAULT. 


243 


It was flanked each side by two comfortable berths, and fur- 
nished with a buffet at one end and a round table and two chairs 
in the center. 

“ Will the senor deign to seat himself ? ” said the captain, 
offering one of these chairs to the visitor and taking the other 
himself. 

There were decanters of spirits, glasses cigars, pipes, and 
tobacco on the table. 

“ Will the senor deign to taste this rum, which is of fine 
quality, and try one of these cigars, which are at once so strong 
and so delicate of aroma ? ” 

For an answer the viscount poured out a liberal portion of 
the spirits and quaffed it almost at a draught, and then lighted 
a cigar and commenced smoking. He smoked away for a few 
minutes, during which Costo waited respectfully for him to 
open communications. 

At length the viscount spoke: , 

Costo, in your island of Cuba able-bodied men and women 
of the negro race command good prices, do they not ? 

“Yes, senor — great prices, since your illustrious statesmen 
have abolished the African slave-trade over all the ocean.” 

“ For instance, how much would a fine young man, of say 
twenty-one years of age, bring ? ” 

“ From two to five thousand dollars, according to his health, 
good looks, and accomplishments. I have known a likely boy 
of fourteen to sell for three thousand dollars. He is now one of 
the best cooks on the island.” 

“ Humph ! then I should say the one I speak of would bring 
near the highest price you have named. How much would a 
healthy, handsome girl of eighteen bring?” 

“ Mulatress or quadroon ? ” 

“ Oh, neither. She is a negress, black as the blackest satin, 
but with a skin as smooth and soft — a Venus carved in jet.” 

“From a thousand to two thousand dollars, perhaps, as she 
is a negress ; but if she were a mulatress she would bring more, 
or if a quadroon most of all — other things being equal.” 

“ And how much would a stout, healthy, strong-minded woman 
of fifty bring ? ” 

“ That depends upon other circumstances, senor. If, to- 
gether with her health and intelligence, she should be a good 
housekeeper and nurse, as women of her age are apt to be, why, 
then she might bring from nine to twelve hundred dollars.” 


244 self-eaised; ok, feom the depths. 

Well, Costo, I have three such negroes as I have just de- 
scribed to dispose of.” 

‘‘Yes, sehor? But you are English and this is England!” 
exclaimed the buccaneer in amazement. 

“ Scotch — and Scotland. But, no matter — it amounts to the 
same thing. Will you buy my negroes at a bargain? ” 

“Pardon, senor, but I do not understand. I thought there 
was no buying and selling of slaves in England.” 

“ Of course there is not. And there is no free trade in Eng- 
land. Both negro- trading and smuggling are illegal. Yet, as 
you manage to drive a pretty profitable business in the latter, 
you might speculate a little in the former. Eh ? ” 

“ But, pardon, senor. I am not in the slave-trade.” 

“What of that? When such a splendid opportunity of do- 
ing a fine stroke of business offers, you might step aside from 
your regular routine of trade to make a considerable sum of 
money, might you not ? ” 

“If the senor would condescend to explain himself I might 
understand the affair he proposes to me. I do not yet compre- 
hend how he can have slaves to sell in England,” said the cap- 
tain respectfully. 

“Perhaps another would not be able to understand how you 
manage to import articles upon which heavy duty is laid, free 
of all duty whatever ? ” said the viscount, indulging in a sneer. 

“ If the senor would deign to make his meaning clear ? ” 

“Well, the senor will endeavor to do so. Though more de- 
pends upon your perspicacity^ than his perspicuity. Can you 
comprehend that when I was on a visit to the States I married 
a young American lady, who owned a large number of slaves, 
who, of course, passed into my possession from the marriage 
day?” 

“ Oh, yes, senor ; that is easily understood.” 

“ Three of these slaves, the three of which I have just spoken, 
being favorites of their mistress, attended her to this country.” 

“ And became free from the moment they touched English 
ground, senor; for such is English law.” 

“We are not talking of law — though I suppose there is as 
much law for slavery as there is for smuggling. But the less 
you and I say about law the better. So just suppose we leave 
law entirely out of the argument.” 

“With all my heart, senor; if the senor desires it to be left 
out.” 


THE CASTLE VAULT. 


245 


‘ The senor ’ does. So now, then, we shall get along better. 
These three negroes are at Castle Cragg. At your own estima- 
tion, the lot must be worth eight thousand dollars — sixteen hun- 
dred pounds in our money; now you shall have them for six 
hundred pounds — that is, three thousand dollars of your money ; 
and you will thereby make a profit of one thousand pounds, or 
five thousand dollars, which is nearly two hundred per cent. 
Come, what do you say ? ” 

“ Senor, we are to leave law out of the argument ? ” 

“ Of course.” 

Then, if I had these negroes on board this vessel, which 
is to sail with the morning tide, I would give the senor his price 
for them.” 

“ You shall have them all on board within the hour.” 

“ Good ! but, pardon, senor, a thought strikes me ! ” 

‘‘What is it?” 

“ Since these negroes are favorite servants of the illustrious 
senora ? ” 

“What then?” 

“ She will not consent to part with them.” 

“Her consent is as unnecessary as the sanction of the law. 
It is just because they are favorite servants — ^petted, pampered, 
and spoiled servants — ^that I wish to part with them. Such ser- 
vants are nuisances in the family circle.” 

“ The senor is right, always right ! but — shall we have any 
difficulty with the negroes ? ” 

“Hone whatever. You will take them in their beds.” 

“Will they not make an outcry and bring the house upon 
us? ” 

“ My excellent but too cautious friend, did you never hear of 
chloroform ? ” 

“ Surely, senor.” 

“ It is one of the greatest blessings modern science has con- 
ferred upon us. It not only saves much pain in surgical opera- 
tions, but in other operations it actually saves life. The ex- 
perienced burglar now, when he enters a house for the purpose 
of robbery, instead of cutting the throat of a wakeful inmate, 
simply administers chloroform, and soothes his restlessness so 
perfectly that he falls into a happy state of insensibility, while 
he, the burglar, pursues his calling undisturbed and at leisure.” 

“Well, senor?” 

“ Well, don’t you understand ? I will conduct you and such 


246 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

of your men as you can trust to the castle ; admit you secretly ; 
lead you to the bedside of the negroes, who are sure at this hour 
to be in a deep sleep; administer the chloroform to send them 
into a deeper one; and so transport them to the vessel.” 

“ And by that time we will be ready to raise anchor and sail. 
And when our sleepers awake we shall be safely on our way to 
Cuba.” 

“Exactly. But no time is to be lost. Will you go now?” 
inquired the viscount, rising. 

“ Certainly,” said the captain, and he went on deck to order 
the boat manned to go on shore. 

In a few minutes it was reported ready, and the captain, the 
mate, and two sailors whom they supposed they could rely 
upon, entered it. In a very few minutes they reached the shore 
and left the boat. 

“ Leave the two sailors here with the boat ; the mate will be 
sufficient for our purpose,” said the viscount. 

The captain gave the necessary directions to the boatmen. 
Lord Vincent, Captain Costo, and Paolo went up the narrow 
pass leading to the top of the cliff and entered the castle court- 
yard. 

“Your boots are heavy; they might awaken the household, 
even at this hour of its deepest sleep; you must put them off 
here,” whispered the viscount. 

It was no sooner said than done. The men cast off both 
shoes and stockings and stood in their bare feet. 

“We must keep them dry to put on again,” said the mate, 
as he stuffed the stockings into the boots. 

Then, silent as death, they stole into the castle and glided 
along the dark, deserted halls and up its staircases. 

The viscount paused before the door of Mrs. Dugald’s bou- 
doir, and taking the maid’s pass-key from its hiding place, 
softly unlocked and entered the room, beckoning his companions 
in crime to follow. 

Silently he stole across the room, drew aside the crimson- 
satin hangings, exposed the oak-paneled walls, and touched a 
spring. 

A secret door opened, revealing a narrow flight of stairs. 
Making a sign for his companions to follow, he descended. 

Down many narrow flights of stairs, through many winding 
labyrinths, along many dark passages, the sailors followed their 
leader, until far down in the deepest foundations of the castle 


THE CASTLE VAULT. 


247 

they reached a large, circular stone crypt, with many rusted 
iron doors around it, leading into little dungeons. On one side 
of this horrible place was a rude stone altar with an iron cruci- 
fix. In the center was a block. It was probably a vault which 
in the old and dark ages had been used for a place of secret 
imprisonments, executions, and burials. 

Lord Vincent flashed his lantern around upon the scene and 
then went up to one of the grated doors, unfastened it, and 
entered the dungeon. 

It was a small stone cavity, a hard hole, where it seemed im- 
possible for a human being to live and breathe for an hour. 
And yet poor old Katie, with the wonderful tenacity of life 
which belongs to the pure African, had clung to existence there 
ever since the hour when, seeming dead, she had been dragged 
from the apartments of Faustina to this hideous vault. 

So you see he had deceived Faustina into the belief that 
Katie had died in the vault from the effects of chloroform. 

By the dim light of the lantern her form could now be seen 
squatted in the corner of the dungeon. Her knees were drawn 
up, her arms folded on them, and her head buried in them. She 
had fallen asleep; probably after long watching and fasting 
and the effects of mental and physical exhaustion. The entrance 
of the viscount did not awaken her. 

“ This is the woman ; I was ©bliged to confine her here for a 
violent assault upon a lady of my family. She is fast asleep; 
but to attempt to remove her might awaken her; so we will 
make all sure by sending her into a deeper sleep,” whispered 
the viscount, drawing from his pocket first a bottle of chloro- 
form and then a piece of sponge, which he proceeded to saturate 
with the liquid. 

But it required tact to apply it. Katie^s face was buried in 
her arms. So he first put the lantern out of the way where it 
could not shine upon her, and then went and gently lifted 
Katie^s head with one hand while he applied the sponge near 
her nose with the other. 

“Yes, chile; I tink so too — my ladyship — whited saltpetre — - 
Bottomy Bay,” muttered Katie, who was sleeping the deep 
sleep of her race, and probably dreaming of her lady and her 
lady’s dangers. 

The viscount laid her head back on his own breast, put the 
chloroform sponge to her nose, and fitted his own slouch hat 
over her face in such a manner as to confine the fumes. 


248 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

Poor old Katie’s wide nostrils soon inhaled the whole of the 
deadly vapor, which acted with unusual power upon her ex- 
hausted frame, so that she speedily lay as one dead. 

Take her up! make haste! There is a skorter way out of 
this vault; but I could not bring you here by it because it is 
fastened on this side,” said the viscount, leaving the den. 

The captain and mate went in, and raised old Katie’s unre- 
sisting form in their arms, and followed the viscount, who led 
them from the vault into a long stone passage, at the end of 
which was a door, fastened on the inside with a chain and pad- 
lock. 

The viscount unlocked this door, which opened out into a 
rocky cave, through which they passed to an intricate, wind- 
ing, and rugged labyrinth, which finally led out into the open 
air, on the beach near which the boat was left. 

The captain and mate laid down their burden, and stretched 
their limbs, and took a long breath. The viscount beckoned 
the boatmen to approach, and they came. Then turning to 
the captain, he said: 

“You had better order these men to take this woman im- 
mediately to the boat, and carry her across to the vessel, and 
lock her up in some place of safety. Then they can return for 
us; and in the meantime we will return to the castle for the 
other two.” 

“Yes, senor,” said the captain; and he promptly gave the 
order. 

The viscount waited until he saw Katie safely in the boat 
and half across on her way to the vessel, and then he beckoned 
his companions to follow him, and led the way back to the 
castle. 

This time he conducted them to an old turret that had been 
appointed to the use of Lady Vincent’s servants; it was remote 
from the sleeping apartments of the other domestics. The 
locks were without keys. 

“We will take the man first,” said Lord Vincent, softly open- 
ing an old oaken door and leading them into a small circular 
room, scantily furnished, where, upon a rude bedstead, lay poor 
Jim in a profound sleep. He was a fine subject for their vil- 
lainous practices. He was lying on his back, with his head 
stretched back over his pillow, his eyes fast closed, and his 
mouth wide open. One touching incident in the appearance 
of this poor fellow was the presence of two large tears on his 


THE CASTLE VAULT. 


249 


cheeks. He had probably lain awake all night, and just cried 
himself to sleep over the fate of his mother, whom his loyal 
heart loved so faithfully. 

The viscount applied the chloroform, and Jim’s sleep sunk 
into insensibility. The captain and the mate then raised him 
in their arms and bore him from the room and through the 
many passages and down the many stairs, and along the great 
hall to the outside of the castle. 

They had a hard time getting him down the cliff. But they 
accomplished the task at last. They found the boat returned 
and the boatmen waiting patiently for their arrival. 

“ Captain, the tide serves,” said one of these men. 

know it, Jacques. We will sail in half an hour. Where 
did you put the woman ? ” 

I locked her in your cabin for the present, captain.” 

Did she recover her senses ? ” 

‘^Ho, captain.” 

“ The devil ! I hope she won’t die.” 

Ho danger, Costo; they lie insensible under the influence of 
chloroform sometimes for hours, and then recover in a bet- 
ter condition than they were before,” said the viscount, haz- 
arding an opinion on a subject of which he knew very little. 
*‘But, now, order the sailors to convey this man to the vessel 
and then return once more for us.” 

Pardon, senor. We had better bind him first. If he should 
recover before he reaches the vessel he might jump out and 
make his escape,” replied the captain, drawing a large silk 
handkerchief from his pocket and tying the hands of the captive 
firmly behind his back. 

Lend me yours, Paolo,” he next requested, holding his hands 
out for the required article. 

With this second handkerchief twisted into a rope the captain 
firmly tied together the feet of the captive. 

Jim was now as effectually bound as if his fetters had been 
iron or rope; but he was beginning to show signs of recovery. 
The viscount saw this and applied the chloroform again, and 
Jim relapsed into insensibility. In this condition he was con- 
veyed into the boat and rowed swiftly to the vessel. 

Meanwhile Lord Vincent and his confederates in crime re- 
traced their steps up the cliff. 

“We must be very quick this time, for the household will 
goon be astir,” whispered Lord Vincent eagerly, as he noticed 


250 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

on the eastern horizon the faint dawn of the late winter morn- 
ing. 

They entered the castle, which, luckily for them, was still 
buried in repose, and wound their circuitous way back to the 
turret where the last victim, poor Sally, lay. 

The viscount opened the oaken door and preceded his com- 
panions into her chamber. 

But, oh, horror! Sally was awake and up! She was seated 
on the side of her bed and in the act of putting on her shoes. 
On seeing the viscount enter she raised her eyes and gazed in 
dumb amazement. 

He lost no time. Like a wild beast he sprang upon her be- 
fore she could utter a cry. 

Throwing one arm around her throat, with his hand upon 
her mouth, he forced her head back against his breast and ap- 
plied the chloroform until she succumbed to its fatal power and 
sunk like a corpse in his anns. 

Then his two accomplices took her, and by the same winding 
route of halls, stairs, and passages carried her out of the castle 
and down to the beach, where the boat was waiting to receive 
her. They put her into it, and the viscount, the captain, and 
the mate followed. In three minutes they reached the vessel, 
and all went on board, taking the captive girl with them. 

The viscount accompanied the captain to his little office and 
received the six hundred pounds in gold which was the price 
of this last infamy. 

Then the accomplices shook hands and parted. 

The sailors rowed the viscount back to the shore, and then re- 
turned to their vessel. The viscount stood on the beach, watch- 
ing the brigantine until she raif id her anchor and made sail. 
And then, as it was growing light, he turned and climbed the 
cliff and entered the castle, wearing a smile of triumph. 



“ They put her into the boat ; the viscount, the captain 
and mate followed.’* 


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THE EJSTD OF CLAUDIa’s PEIDE. 


251 


CHAPTEK XXXII. 


THE END OF CLAUDIA’S PRIDE. 


Is she saved by pangs that pained her? 

Is there comfort in all it cost her ? 
Before the world had gained her, 

Before the Lord had lost her, 

Or her soul had quite disdained her? 


For her soul — (and this is the worst 
To bear, as we well know) — 

Has been watching her from the first 
As closely as God could do, 

And herself her life has curst! 


Talk of the flames of hell. 

We build, ourselves, I conceive, 

The fire the fiend lights. — Well I 
Believe or disbelieve. 

We know more than we tell. 

— Owen Meredith. 

After a sleepless night, whose lonely anguish would have 
driven almost any woman who was compelled to endure it mad, 
Claudia arose and rung her bell. 

No one answered it. 

Too impatient to wait for the tardy attendance of her ser- 
vants, Claudia thrust her feet into slippers, drew on her dress- 
ing-gown, and went and opened the window-shutters to let in 
the morning light. Then she rang again. 

Still no one obeyed the summons. 

She was not alarmed. Even with the knowledge of what had 
gone before, she felt no uneasiness. She went to the dressing 
glass and loosened her hair, and let it fall all over her shoulders 
to relieve her burning head. And then she bathed her face in 
cold water. She was impatient to make her toilet and leave 
the castle. 

She knew that all was over with her worldly grandeur; that 
all her splendid dreams had vanished forever; that obscurity, 
perhaps deepened by degradation, was all that awaited her in 
the future. 

Wounded, bruised, and bleeding as her heart was, she felt 
glad to go ; glad to leave the abode of splendid discord, misery, 
and crime, for any quiet dwelling-place. Eor she was utterly 
worn out in body, mind, and spirit. 


252 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

She no longer desired wealth, rank, admiration, or even love; 
she only longed for peace; prayed for peace. 

She knew a turbulent future threatened her; but she feebly 
resolved to evade it. She knew that Lord Vincent would sue 
for a divorce from her; would drag her name before the world 
and make it a by-word of scorn in those very circles of fashion 
over which she had once hoped to reign; she would not oppose 
him, she thought; she had no energy left to meet the over- 
whelming mass of testimony with which he had prepared to 
crush her. If her father should come over and defend her 
cause — well and good. She would let him do it ; but as for her, 
she would go away, and seek peace. 

You see, Claudia was in a very different mood of mind from 
that of the night previous, which had inspired her with such 
royal dignity and heroic courage to withstand and awe her 
accusers. 

There had come the natural reaction from high excitement, 
and feats which had appeared easy, in the hour of her exalted 
indignation, seemed now impossible. She could now no more go 
to the American minister, and tell him her story, and claim his 
assistance, than she could have run into a burning fire. But, 
thank Heaven, she could go from the castle. 

She rang her bell a third time, and more sharply than before. 
After a few minutes it was answered by the housekeeper, who 
entered with her customary respectful courtesy. 

“ She has not heard of last night’s scandal,” thought Claudia, 
as she noticed the dame’s unaltered manner. 

have rung three times, Mrs. Murdock. Why has not my 
maid come up?” she inquired. 

“ Indeed, me leddy, I dinna ken. I ha’ na seen the lass the 
mom,” answered the woman. 

“ What ! You do not mean to say that Sally has not made 
her appearance this morning?” 

Indeed and she ha’ na, me leddy.” 

“ Mrs. Murdock, pray go at once to her room and see if she 
is there.” 

The housekeeper went away; and after an absence of fifteen 
minutes returned to say that Sally was not in her room. 

“ But I dinna think she is far awa’, me leddy ; because her 
bed is all tumbled as if she was just out of it. And her shoes 
and clothes are lying there, just as she put them off.” 

I will dress and go and make inquiries myself. This house 


THE END OF CLAUDIa’s PRIDE. 


253 


is a place of mysterious disappearances. I wonder if the beach 
below is of quicksand, and does it swallow people up alive?” 

“I dinna ken, me leddy,” gravely answered the dame. 

“ Mrs. Murdock, can you help me to dress ? ” 

“ Surely, me leddy,” said the housekeeper, approaching Clau- 
dia with so much respectful affection that the unhappy lady 
said once more to herself: 

“ She knows nothing of last night’s work.” 

And then Claudia, who was much too high-spirited and sin- 
cere to receive attentions rendered by the dame in ignorance 
of that night’s scandal which she might not have so kindly ren- 
dered had she known of them, said: . ' - 

“ Mrs. Murdock, do you know what happened las^ night ? ” 

‘‘Aye, surely, me leddy, I ken a’ about it, if your'leddyship 
means the fause witness o’ that de’il Frisbie,” said the house- 
keeper, growing red with emotion. 

“ It was a false witness ! a base, wicked, infamous calumny ! 
1 think the more highly of you, Mrs. Murdock, for so quickly 
detecting this. And I thank you,” said Claudia, with difficulty 
restraining the tears, which for the first time since her great 
wrong were ready to burst from her eyes. 

“ Ou, aye, me leddy! It did na require the Witch of Endor 
to see the truth of that business. Ye’ll see I ken Laird Vin- 
cent and Frisbie and the player-quean, wha is worst o’ a’! 
And I hanna served ye, me leddy, these twa months without 
kenning yer ladyship as well. And sae I ken the differ, me 
leddy. I ken the differ ” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Murdock, in this deep desolation I find some com- 
fort in your faith in me ! ” 

“And sae I dinna believe a word the fause knave Frisbie 
says. And neither does auld Cuthbert, honest man I But wae’s 
me, me leddy, whate’er our convictions may be, we canna dis- 
prove the lees o’ yon de’il.” 

“No, we cannot,” said Claudia, with a sigh of despair; “and 
unless Providence intervenes to save me, I am lost.” 

“ Aweel, me leddy, ye maun just hope that he will intervene. 
Na, na, dinna greet sae sairly ! ” the good woman entreated, for 
Claudia had burst into a flood of tears, and was weeping bit- 
terly. 

This refreshed her spirit and cleared her brain. Presently, 
wiping her eyes and looking up, she said: 

“Mrs. Murdock, I cannot meet those wretches at breakfast. 


254 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

Send me some coffee; and order the carriage to be at the door 
in an hour; also send Sally, who must be at hand by this time, 
to help me pack.” 

The dame went on this errand, and after a short absence re- 
turned, bringing Claudia’s breakfast on a tray. 

Where is Sally?” inquired Lady Vincent, as the house- 
keeper arranged the breakfast on a little table. 

She hanna come yet, me leddy,” said the housekeeper, who 
remained and waited on Lady Vincent at breakfast. 

Claudia could eat but little. To all her own sources of trouble 
was now added alarm, on account of Sally. What if the hapless 
girl had shared old Katie’s fate ? was the question that now be- 
gan to torture her. 

Have you seen my footman this morning, Mrs. Murdock ? ” 
she inquired. 

“Kae, me leddy; the lad aye gaes to Banff for the mail about 
this hour.” 

^^When he comes send him to me at once. And noiW please 
take the service away. And when you go downstairs institute 
a search for my maid. And do you, if you can do so con- 
veniently, return and help me to pack.” 

^^Aye, me leddy,” replied the woman, as she lifted the tray 
and carried it away. 

In a few minutes she returned and assisted Lady Vincent to 
fill one large trunk. 

“ That is all I shall take with me. I shall leave the remain- 
der of my wardrobe in your care, Mrs. Murdock, and I must 
request you to see them packed and sent on to Edinboro’, where 
I shall stop before deciding on my future steps,” said Lady Vin- 
cent. 

“Aye, me leddy; ye may be sure I will do a’ in my power 
to serve your leddyship.” 

“ And now pray see if Jim has returned from the post office.” 

Mrs. Murdock went ; but returned with startling news : 

“The lad Jamie has na got back, me leddy; and it e’en ap- 
pears that he has na gane. I just asked ane o’ the stable lads 
what time it was when Jamie took the horse to gang to the 
post office, and the lad said that Jamie had na come for the 
horse at a’ ! ” 

Claudia sprang up and gazed at the speaker in consternation ; 
and then sunk down in her chair, and covered her face with 
her hands and groaned. 


THE END OF CLAUDIA’s PRIDE. 


255 


“ Dinna do that, me leddy — dinna do that ! ” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Murdock ! don’t leave me ! don’t lose sight of me, 
or I shall vanish too; swallowed up in this great ruin!” she 
cried, with a shudder. 

There was a rap at the door. Mrs. Murdock opened it. Lord 
Vincent’s footman stood there. 

‘‘ My lord sends his compliments to my lady, and says that 
the carriage is waiting to take her from the castle; the tide 
is rising, which will render the road impassable for several 
hours; and he hopes she will take that fact into consideration 
and not delay her departure.” 

“ ‘ Delay ’ ? I am only too glad to go. But oh, my poor faith- 
ful servants. Mi*s. Murdock, tell the man to send someone up 
here to carry my trunk down,” said Lady Vincent, hastily 
putting on her sable cloak and tying on her bonnet. 

Her heart ached at the thought of abandoning her servants; 
and she only reconciled herself to the measure by reflecting 
that to lodge information with the detective police at Banlf 
would really be the best means she could possibly take for their 
recovery. 

When two of the men servants had carried down her trunk. 
Lady Vincent shook hands with the kind-hearted housekeeper, 
and prepared to follow them. In taking leave of Mrs. Mur- 
dock she said : 

“ I thank you sincerely for your kindness to the strangers 
that came to your land. You are really the only friend that 
I and my unfortunate servants have met since our arrival in 
this country ; and I shall not forget you 1 ” 

The housekeeper wept. 

“ When my poor servants reappear, if they ever should do so, 
you will be so good as to send them to me at Edinboro’. Send 
them to the railway office, where I will leave my address.” 

Aye, me leddy, I will na forget,” sobbed the old dame. 

Claudia pressed her hand, dropped it, and went below. 

In crossing the central hall towards the principal entrance 
Claudia suddenly stopped as though the Gorgon’s head had 
blasted her sight. For Lord Vincent stood near the open door, 
as if to witness and triumph over her expulsion. With a strong 
effort she conquered her weakness and approached the door. 
The viscount made a low and mocking bow and stepped aside. 
Claudia confronted him. 

My lord,” she said, “ you think you have very successfully 


256 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

conspired against my honor; but if there is justice on earth, 
or in heaven, you will yet be exposed and punished.” 

Lord Vincent made her an ironical bow; but no other reply. 

Where are my servants ? ” she inquired solemnly. 

“I am not their manager, my lady, that I should be con- 
versant with their movements,” answered the viscount. 

“ My lord, you well know where they are. And if Heaven 
should bless my efforts this morning, the world shall soon 
know.” 

My lady, the way is open ; the north wind rather piercing. 
Will you please to pass out and let me close it? ” said his lord- 
ship, holding the door wide open for her exit. 

“Will you tell me where my servants are?” persisted 
Claudia. 

“I do not know, my lady. They have probably stolen the 
plate and gone. I will ask the butler, and if it is so, I will put 
the constables on their track,” said Lord Vincent, bowing and 
waving his hand towards the door. 

“ I leave you to the justice of Heaven, evil man ! ” replied 
Claudia, as she passed through and left the castle. She en- 
tered the carriage and was driven off. 

Lord Vincent closed the door behind her and then went into 
the breakfast room, where the cloth was already laid. Heither 
Mrs. MacDonald nor Mrs. Dugald had yet come down. They 
seemed to be sleeping late after their disturbed night. 

Presently, however, they entered — Mrs. MacDonald looking 
very much embarrassed, Faustina pale as death. Lord Vin- 
cent received them with grave politeness, and they all sat down 
to the table. 

It was then Lord Vincent said : 

“ Mrs. MacDonald, Lady Vincent has this morning left this 
house upon which she has brought so much dishonor. It is 
also necessary for me to go to London to take measures for the 
dissolution of my marriage. I am, therefore, about to ask of 
you a great favor.” 

“ Ask any you please, my lord. I am very anxious to be of 
service to you in this awful crisis. And I will gladly do all 
in my power to help you,” replied this very complaisant lady. 

“I thank you, madam. I thank you very much. The favor 
I had to ask of you is this — ^that you will kindly remain here 
with Mrs. Dugald, until some plan is formed for her future 
residence.” 


THE END OF CLAUDIA^S PRIDE. 257 

“ Surely, my lord, I will remain with great pleasure,” an- 
swered this needy lady, who was only too glad to leave for a 
season the straitened home of her married sister, and take up 
her abode in this plentiful establishment. 

“ Again I thank you, madam ; thank you cordially on the 
part of my widowed sister as well as on my own part,” said the 
viscount courteously. 

And this point being settled, the party dispersed. 

Mrs. MacDonald retired to her own apartments to write a 
note to her sister, requesting that her effects might be for- 
warded to Castle Cragg. 

Mrs. Dugald went to her boudoir to await there in feverish 
impatience the arrival of the viscount. 

He did not keep her long in suspense; he soon entered, 
locked the door behind him, and seated himself beside her. 

“ She is gone — really gone ? ” whispered Faustina, in a low, 
eager, breathless voice. 

‘‘Yes, my angel; you heard me say so.” 

“Eeally and truly gone?” 

“Really and truly.” 

“ Oh, I am so glad ! And her servants ? Ah, I always hated 
those blacks ! She has not left them behind ? ” 

“ Certainly not,” answered the viscount evasively. 

“ Ah, what a relief ! The house is well rid of them.” 

“It is, indeed, my love.” 

“ But — but — but — the dead body ? ” whispered the woman in 
a husky voice, while her eyes dilated with terror. 

“ It is gone.” 

“Where? how?” 

“ I tied a heavy weight to its feet and sunk it in the depths 
of the sea,” replied the viscount, who felt no scruples in de- 
ceiving anyone, least of all his accomplice in crime. 

And this shows the utter falsity of the absurd proverb that 
asserts “ there is honor among thieves.” There can be no honor 
and no confidence in any league wherein the bond is guilt. 

Lord Vincent was completely under the influence of Mrs. 
Dugald, whom he worshiped with a fatal passion — a passion 
the more violent and enduring because she continually stimu- 
lated without ever satisfying it. Up to this time she had never 
once permitted the viscount to kiss her. Thus he was her 
slave; but, like all slaves, he deceived his tyrant. He had de- 
ceived Mrs. Dugald from the first; he habitually deceived her. 


258 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEi^HS. 

In this instance he persuaded her that old Katie died under 
the influence of the chloroform that she had helped to adminis- 
ter on that fatal night when the old negress had been discov- 
ered eavesdropping behind the curtain in Mrs. Dugald’s apart- 
ments. 

What his motive could have been for this deception it would 
be difficult to say; perhaps it was for the purpose of gaining 
some power over her; perhaps it was from the pleasure of tor- 
turing her and seeing her terrors — for his passion for the 
woman was by no means that pure love which seeks first of all 
the good of its object; and, finally, perhaps it was from the 
mere habit of duplicity. 

However that might be, he had persuaded her that Katie 
was dead, dead from the efiects of the chloroform they had 
forced her to take. 

And now that he had really committed a felony by selling the 
three negroes to a West Indian smuggler, he was not inclined 
to confess the truth. For not upon any account would he have 
confided to his companion in guilt the secret of a criminal 
transaction in which she had not also been implicated. He 
could not have trusted her so far as to place his liberty in her 
keeping. Therefore he preferred she should believe Katie^s 
body had been sunk in the depths of the sea; and that Sally 
and Jim had accompanied their lady in her departure from the 
castle. It is true, the household servants might soon disabuse 
her mind of the mistake that the lady’s maid and footman had 
gone with their mistress. But if they should do so, the vis- 
count knew he could easily plead ignorance as to the fact; and 
say that all he knew was, she had not left them at the castle. 

Mrs. Dugald listened to his account of the disposition of old 
Katie’s body with deep delight. She clapped her little hands 
in her usual silly manner and exclaimed eagerly: 

That is good ; oh, that is good ! But are you sure it will 
stay down there ? Great Heaven, if it should rise against us ! ” 

“ There is no danger, love, no danger.” 

“We should all be guillotined ! ” she repeated for the twen- 
tieth time since that night. And she shuddered through all her 
frame. 

“Hanged, my dearest, not guillotined; hanged by the neck 
till we are dead,” said the viscount, smiling. 

“ Ah, but you look like Mephistopheles when you say that ! ” 
she shrieked, covering her face with her hands. 


THE COUNTESS OF HUESTMONCEUX. 


259 


“ But there is no danger, none at all, I assure you. And now, 
/ny angel, I must leave you; I ordered the brougham to be at 
the door at twelve precisely to take me to Banff to meet the 
Aberdeen coach. And I have some preparations to make. Come 
down into the drawing room and wait to take leave of me, that 
is a dear.” 

‘‘ Oh, yes, yes ! but before you go, promise me ! You will 
write every day ? ” 

“ Every day, my angel,” said the viscount, bowing over her 
hand, before he withdrew from the room. 

His preparations were soon made. Old Cuthbert performed 
the duties of valet. And punctually at twelve o’clock the vis- 
count took leave of his evil demon and her chaperon and de- 
parted for Banff, where he took the coach to Aberdeen, at which 
place he arrived in time to catch the night train up to London. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE COUNTESS OF HUESTMONCEUX. 

The beauteous woe that charms like faded light, 

Tke cheek so pure that knows no youthful bloom, 

Well suiteth her dark brow and forehead white, 

And in the sad endurance of her eye 

Is all that love believes of woman’s majesty. 

— Elliott. 

In the meantime Lady Vincent reached Banff. She drove at 
once to the principal hotel, where she engaged a room into 
which her luggage was carried. With a gratuity to the coach- 
man who had driven her she dismissed the carriage, which re- 
turned immediately to the castle. 

Then she ordered a fly and drove to the police station — at 
that time a mean little stone edifice, exceedingly repulsive with- 
out and excessively filthy within. 

A crowd of disreputable-looking ragamuffins of both sexes 
and all ages obstructed the entrance. Surely it was a revolt- 
ing scene to one of Lady Vincent’s fastidious nature and re- 
fined habits. But she did not shrink from her duty. She made 
her way through this disgusting assemblage, and found just 
within the door a policeman, to whom she said: 

“ I wish, if you please, to see your inspector.” 

“You will have to wait in the outer room, then, miss, be- 


260 self-kaised; ok, from the depths. 

cause he is engaged now,” replied the man curtly ; for the beauty 
of the woman, the costliness of her apparel, and the fact of her 
having come unattended to a place like that, filled the mind of 
the officer with evil suspicions concerning her. 

He opened a door on the left and let the visitor pass into 
the anteroom — a wretched stone hall, whose floor was carpeted 
with dirt and whose windows were curtained with cobwebs. 
A bench ran along the wall at one end, on which sat several 
forlorn, stupefied, or desperate-looking individuals waiting their 
turn to be examined. Two or three policemen, walking up and 
down, kept these persons in custody. 

Claudia could not sit down among them; she walked to one 
of the windows and looked out. 

She waited there some time, while one after another the 
prisoners were taken in and examined. Some returned from 
examination free, and walked out unattended and wearing 
satisfied countenances. Others came back in the custody of 
policemen and with downcast looks. 

It seemed long before the inspector was at leisure to receive 
her. At length, however, the policeman she had seen at the 
door came up and said: 

“ How, miss ! ” 

Claudia arose and followed him to another room — a small, 
carpeted office, where Inspector Murray was seated at a desk. 

He was a keener observer of character than the policeman 
had proved himself to be ; and so, despite the suspicious 
circumstances which had awakened that worthy’s doubts. 
Inspector Murray recognized in his visitor a lady of rank. He 
arose to receive her and handed her a chair, and then seated 
himself and respectfully waited for her to open her business. 

Lady Vincent felt so much embarrassed that it was some 
time before she spoke. At length, however, she took courage 
to say: 

“ My errand here is a very painful one, sir.” 

The inspector bow;ed and looked attentive. 

^‘Indeed it is of so strange and distressing a nature that I 
scarcely know how to explain it,” she said. 

“I beg you will feel no hesitation in making your com- 
munication, madam. We are accustomed to receive strange and 
distressing complaints.” 

Sir,” said Claudia, gently preparing the way, “ you have 
not failed, then, in the course of your professional experience. 


THE COUNTESS OF HUKSTMONCEUX. 261 

to observe tliat crime is not an inmate of the houses of the 
impoverished and the degraded only, but that it may be found 
in the mansions of the rich and the palaces of the nobility.” 

“Without a doubt, madam.” 

“ Then you will be the less shocked when I inform you that 
the circumstances which have driven me to seek your aid 
occurred recently in Castle Cragg, in the family of Lord Vin- 
cent.” 

“ It is not the murder that was lately committed there to 
which you allude ? ” gravely inquired the inspector. 

“ Oh, no, not that murder ; but I greatly fear there has been 
another one,” replied Claudia, with a shudder. 

“ Madam ! ” exclained the inspector, in astonishment. 

“ I fear it is as I have hinted, sir,” persisted Claudia. 

“ But who has been murdered ? ” 

“ I suspect that a harmless old female servant, named Katie 
Mrtimer who became aware of a dangerous secret, has been.” 

“ And — by whom ? ” 

“I fear hy a woman called Faustina Dugald and a man 
named Alick Frisbie.” 

Now, it is very difficult to surprise or startle an inspector 
of police. But Mr. Murray was really more than surprised or 
startled. He was shocked and appalled, as his countenance 
betrayed when he dropped his pen and fell back in his chair. 

“ Madam,” he said, “ do you know what you are saying ? ” 

“ Full well, sir ; and I entreat you to receive my statement in 
detail and act upon it with promptitude. Your own investi- 
gations will discover how much cause I have for my suspicions,” 
said Claudia firmly. 

The inspector drew some writing paper before him, took up 
his pen, and said : 

“ Proceed, madam, if you please.” 

Claudia commenced her statement, but was almost imme- 
diately interrupted by the inspector, who said: 

“Your name, madam, if you please.” 

Claudia started and blushed at her own forgetfulness ; 
though, in truth, it had never occurred to her to introduce 
herself by name to an inspector of police. How, however, she 
perceived how necessary it was that her name should attend 
her statement. 

“ I am Lady Vincent,” she replied. 

There was an instantaneous change in the inspectors man- 


262 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

ner. His deportment had been respectful from the first, 
because he had recognized his visitor as a lady ; but his manner 
was obsequious now that he heard she was a titled lady. 

“ I beg your ladyship’s pardon,” he said. “ I had no idea 
that I was honored with the presence of Lady Vincent. Pray, 
my lady, do not inconvenience yourself in the least by going 
over these painful things at the present hour, unless you feel 
that it is really necessary. I could wait on your ladyship at 
your residence and receive your communication there.” 

“ Sir, I thank you for your courtesy, but I prefer to make 
my statement now and here,” replied Claudia. 

The inspector dipped his pen in ink and looked attentive. 

Claudia proceeded with her communication. She related all 
the circumstances that had come to her knowledge respecting 
the disappearance of Katie, and the inspector took down her 
words. 

Then she mentioned the more recent evanishment of Sally 
and Jim; but she alluded to these facts only as collateral cir- 
cumstances; she could not believe that the two last named had 
lost their lives. 

When the inspector had taken down the whole of her state- 
ment she arose to go. 

The inspector also arose. 

“Will you investigate this matter immediately?” she said. 

“I will do so to-day, my lady,” replied Mr. Murray, bowing 
deferentially. 

“ Can I be of any assistance to you in pursuing your inquiry 
into this affair ? ” 

“Hot at present, I thank your ladyship,” replied the in- 
spector, with a second bow. 

“ Then I will bid you good-moming.” 

“I beg your ladyship’s pardon; but would your ladyship 
deign to leave your address with me? We might need your 
ladyship’s personal testimony.” 

“ Certainly,” said Claudia. “ I shall go to Edinboro’ to-day, 
where I shall remain at the best hotel, if you know which that 
is, for a few days; before I leave I will write and advise you 
of my destination. And now there is one important part of my 
errand that I had nearly forgotten. It was to ask you to ad- 
vertise for the missing servants, and to authorize you to offer 
a reward of two hundred pounds for any information that may 
lead to their recovery.” 


THE COUNTESS OF HURSTMONCEUX. 


263 


will do it immediately, my lady,” replied Inspector Mur- 
ray, as he obsequiously attended Lady Vincent to the door and 
put her into the fly. 

She drove quickly back to her hotel, where she had only time 
to take a slight luncheon before starting in the eleven o’clock 
coach for Aberdeen, where, after four hours’ ride through a 
wildly picturesque country, she arrived just in time to take 
the afternoon train to Edinboro’. It was the express train, 
and reached the old city at seven o’clock that evening. 

Among the many hotels whose handbills, pasted on the walls 
of the railway station, claimed the attention of travelers, Clau- 
dia selected “ MacGruder’s,” because it was opposite Scott’s 
monument. 

She took a cab and drove there. She liked the appearance 
of the house, and engaged a comfortable suite of apartments, 
consisting of a parlor, bed chamber, and bathroom, and ordered 
dinner. 

How, by all the rules of tradition, Claudia, ignominiously 
expelled from her husband’s house, deprived of her servants^ 
attendance, far from all her friends, alone in a strange hotel 
in a foreign city, with a degrading trial threatening her — Clau- 
dia, I say, ought to have been very unhappy. But she was not. 
She was almost happy. 

Her spirits rebounded from their long depression. Her sen- 
sations were those of escape, freedom, independence. She felt 
like a bird freed from its cage; a prisoner released from cap- 
tivity; a soul delivered from purgatory. Oh, she was so 
glad — so glad to get away entirely, to get away forever — from 
the hold of sin, that Castle Cragg, where she had been buried 
alive so long; where she had lived in torment among lost 
spirits; where the monotony had been like the gloom of the 
grave, and the guilt like the corruption of death! 

She had passed through the depths of Hades, and was happy 
— ^how happy ! — ^to rise to the upper air again and see the stars. 
This, only, was enough for the present. And she scarcely 
thought of the future. Whatever that unknown future might 
bring her, it would not bring back Castle Cragg, Lord Vin- 
cent, Faustina, or Frisbie. 

After she had refreshed herself with a bath and a change 
of dress, she went into the parlor, where she found a warm 
fire, a bright light, and a neatly laid table. 

And whatever' you may think of her, she really enjoyed 


264 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

the boiled salmon, roasted moor-hen, and cabinet custard she 
had ordered for dinner. After the service was removed she 
sat comfortably in her easy-chair before the fire, and reflected 
on her future movements. 

She liked her quarters in this hotel very much. The rooms 
were clean and comfortable; the servants were polite and at- 
tentive; the meals delicately prepared and elegantly served. 

And she resolved to remain here for the present; to write 
to her father by the first American mail; and while waiting 
for his answer, beguile the interval by seeing everything that 
might prove interesting in the city and in the surrounding 
country. 

And in a locality so rich in historical monuments as this was, 
she was sure of interesting occupation for the month that must 
intervene before she could hear from her father in answer to 
the letter which she meant to write. 

She had brought with her from Castle Cragg all the ready 
money she had; it was something more than two hundred 
pounds; so that there was nothing to fear from financial em- 
barrassments. 

After settling this matter to her satisfaction, Claudia, feeling 
very tired, went to bed, and having lost two nights’ rest, imme- 
diately fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, that lasted, un- 
broken, until morning. 

Her first sensation on awakening from this sleep of oblivion 
to the consciousness of her altered circumstances was — not 
humiliation at her own unmerited dishonor — not dread of the 
impending, degrading trial — but pleasure at the recollection 
that she was free; that she was away from Castle Cragg; that 
she would not have to meet Lord Vincent and Faustina at 
breakfast; that she would never have to meet them again. 

Ah! only those who have been compelled for months to 
breathe the vitiated atmosphere of guilt can appreciate the 
excess of Claudia’s joy at her deliverance. It was a joy that 
not even the distressing circumstances that surrounded her, 
and the trial that awaited her, had any pov/er to destroy. 

To one who knew her position, without being able to enter 
into her feelings, it would have seemed an extravagant, an 
unnatural, an insane joy. Perhaps she was a little insane; she 
had had enough trouble to derange her reason. 

She arose gladly. She had a motive for rising now; for- 
merly, at Castle Cragg, she had none, because she had nothing 


THE COUNTESS OF HUESTMONCEUX. 265 

to do. Now she had to order her breakfast, write to her father, 
and drive round to see the old city. 

She dressed herself quickly and went into the parlor. The 
windows were already opened, the fire lighted, and the break- 
fast table was laid. 

She went to the windows and looked out. The morning was 
clear and bright. It seemed to her that even Nature sympa- 
thized in her deliverance. The winter sun shone down brightly 
upon Scott’s monument, that stood within its inclosure in the 
middle of the space before her windows. Yes, she was pleased 
with her quarters. 

She rang the bell and ordered breakfast, which was quickly 
served. When she had finished her morning meal and sent the 
service away, she got her writing-case from her trunk and sat 
down to write to her father and give him a detailed account 
of her misfortunes. 

But she found a difficulty in arranging her thoughts; her 
mind was in too excitable a condition to admit of close appli- 
cation. She commenced, and discarded letter after letter. 

Finally, she gave up trying to write for the present. There 
was time enough; the foreign mail, as she had ascertained, 
did not close until six o’clock in the evening. She thought a 
drive through the old city would work off her excitement and 
tranquilize her nerves. She rang and ordered a fly, and drove 
out. 

First she went to Holyrood, and soon lost all consciousness 
of her own present and individual troubles in dreaming of all 
those princes, heroes, and beauties of history who had lived and 
sinned or suffered within those old palace walls. 

She went into Queen Mary’s rooms, and fell into a reverie 
over that fatal bed-chamber, which remains to this day in the 
same condition in which it was left by the hapless queen about 
three hundred years ago. She saw the steep, dark, narrow, 
secret staircase, with its opening concealed behind the tapes- 
try, up which the assassins of Rizzio had crept to their mur- 
derous work. She saw the little turret closet in which the poor 
queen was at supper with her ladies when the minstrel was 
surprised and massacred in her presence. 

She went into the great picture gallery, where hung the por- 
traits of the Scottish kings — each mother’s royal son painted 
with a large curled proboscis — a nose like a door-knocker,” as 
someone described it. With one exception — that of James IV., 


266 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

the hapless hero of Flodden field. It was a full-length portrait, 
life-sized, and full of fire. Claudia stood and gazed upon it 
with delight. She was charmed by its beauty and by the lines 
that it brought distinctly to her recollection. Whether this 
was really a faithful portrait of King James or not, it certainly 
was an accurate likeness of the hero described by the poet : 

“ The monarch’s form was middle size; 

For feat of strength or exercise 
Shaped in proportion fair; 

And hazel was his eagle eye, 

And auburn of the darkest dye 
His short curled beard and hair. 

Light was his footstep in the dance 
And firm his stirrup in the lists; 

And oh! he had that merry glance 
That seldom lady’s heart resists.” 

Yes, there he stood before her, pictured to the very life; all 
luminous with youth and love, chivalry and royalty; bending 
graciously from the canvas, smiling upon the spectator, and 
seeming about to step forward and take her hand. 

Claudia turned away from this picture, feeling at the same 
moment both pleased and saddened. She had spent three 
hours dreaming amongst the ancient halls and bowers of Holy- 
rood, and now she felt that it was time for her to return to the 
hotel, especially as the palace was beginning to be filled with the 
usual daily inflowing of sight-seers, and she felt somewhat 
fatigued and worried by the crowd. 

So she went out and re-entered her cab, and was driven back 
to the hotel. Here an unexpected misfortune awaited her. As 
she left the cab she put her hand in her pocket to take out her 
purse and pay the cabman. 

It was gone ! 

She turned sick with apprehension, for the loss of this purse, 
which contained all the money which she had brought with her, 
was, under the circumstances, a serious calamity. 

She hurried again into the cab and searched it thoroughly; 
but no purse was to be found. 

Then the truth burst upon her; she had been robbed of it by 
someone in the crowd of visitors in Holyrood Palace; her 
pocket had probably been picked while she stood in the picture 
gallery dreaming before the portrait of King James. How she 
reproached herself for her carelessness in taking so considerable 
an amount of money with her. 


THE COUNTESS OF IIUKSTMONCEUX. ^67 

She was excessively agitated; but she managed to control 
herself sufficiently to speak calmly to the waiter, and say: 

“ Be good enough to pay this man and put the item in my 
bill.” 

The waiter obeyed and discharged the cab ; for, of course, the 
name of Lady Vincent was as yet a passport to credit. Then 
she hurried to her room in a state of great agitation that nearly 
deprived her of all power to think or act. She rang the bell, 
which brought a waiter to her presence. 

“ I would like to see the landlord of this hotel,” she said, 
beg your pardon, my lady, but the proprietor lives out 
of town,” returned the man. 

“ Then send the clerk of the house, or the head waiter, or 
whoever is in charge here.” 

I will send the clerk, my lady,” said the waiter, retiring. 

The clerk soon made his appearance. 

“ Sir,” said Claudia, “ I sent for you to say, that while 
I was seeing Holyrood Palace, this forenoon, my pocket was 
picked of my purse, which contained a considerable amount of 
money; and I wish to ask you what steps I should take for its 
recovery ? ” 

‘‘Have you any idea of the sort of person that robbed you, 
my lady ? ” 

“Hot the slightest; all I know is that I had the purse with 
me when I paid the guide on entering the palace, and then I 
missed it when I reached home; and all I suspect is that it 
was purloined from me while I was in the picture gallery, stand- 
ing before the portrait of James IV.” 

“ In what form was the money, my lady ? ” 

“ Five and ten pound Bank of England notes.” 

“ Were the numbers taken ? ” 

“ Oh, no ; I never thought of taking the numbers.” 

“Then, my lady, I very much fear that it will be difficult 
or impossible to recover the money. However, I will send for a 
detective, and we will make an effort.” 

“Do, sir, if you please.” 

The clerk retired. 

In a few moments Detective Ogilvie waited on Lady Vin- 
cent, and received her statement in regard to the robbery, prom- 
ised to take prompt measures for the discovery of the thief, 
and retired. 

Then suddenly Claudia remembered her letter to her father. 


268 SELF-EAISED ; OE, FEOM THE DEPTHS. 

It was now near the close of the short winter day. Her inter- 
view with the detective had occupied her so long that she had 
barely time to scribble and send off the few urgent lines with 
which the reader is already acquainted. Then she dined aud 
resigned herself to repose for the remainder of the evening. 

While she sat in her easy-chair luxuriating in indolence and 
solitude before the glowing fire, the thought suddenly occurred 
to her that she was not really so badly off as the loss of her purse 
had first led her to suppose. She recollected that she had sev- 
eral costly rings upon her fingers; diamonds, rubies, and emer- 
alds — the least valuable of which was worth more than the purse 
of money which had been stolen from her; and if she should 
be driven to extremity she could part with one of these rings; 
but then, on calm consideration of the subject, she had really 
no fears of being driven to extremity. She was Lady Vincent, 
and her credit was as yet intact before the world. This was a 
first-class hotel, and would supply her with all that she might re- 
quire for the month that must intervene before her father’s 
arrival. 

She would spend this interval in seeing Edinboro’ and its 
environs, and when her father should come she would persuade 
him to take her to the Continent, and afterwards carry her back 
to her native country, and to her childhood’s home, to pass the 
remainder of her life in peace and quietness. 

Dreaming over this humble prospect for the future, Claudia 
retired to bed, and slept well. 

The next morning, as soon as she had breakfasted, she ordered 
a carriage from the stables connected with the hotel and drove 
to Edinboro’ Castle, where she spent two or three hours among 
its royal halls and bowers, dreaming over the monuments of 
the past. 

She lingered in the little cell-like stone chamber where 
Queen Mary had given birth to her son, afterwards James VI. 
She read the pathetic prayer carved on the stone tablet above 
the bedstead, and said to have been composed by the unhappy 
queen in behalf of her newborn infant. 

In the great hall of the castle she paused long before a beau- 
tiful portrait of Mary Stuart, that was brought from Paris, 
where it had been painted, and which represented the young 
queen in her earliest womanhood, when she was the Dauphiness 
of France. And Claudia thought that this portrait was the 
only one, among all that she had ever seen of Mary Stuart, 


THE COUNTESS OF IIURSTMONCEUX. 269 

which came up to her ideal of that royal beauty, who was even 
more a queen of hearts than of kingdoms. 

At length, weary of sight-seeing, she re-entered her carriage 
and returned home. While she was in her bedchamber taking 
off her bonnet, a card was brought to her. 

This must be a mistake — this cannot be for me; I have no 
acquaintances in the town,” she said, without taking the trouble 
to glance at the card. 

“ I beg your ladyship’s pardon, but the countess inquired par- 
ticularly for Lady Vincent,” replied the waiter who had brought 
the card. 

“ The countess ? ” repeated Claudia, and she took it up and 
read the lightly penciled name: 

Berenice, Countess of Hurstmonceux.” 

Say to Lady Hurstmonceux that I will be with her in a few 
minutes,” said Claudia. 

“ ‘ Berenice, Countess of Hurstmonceux,’ ” she repeated when 
the man had retired ; “ that is the widow of the late earl, and the 
forsaken wife of Herman Brudenell. What on earth brings 
her here? And how did she know of my presence in the city, 
and even in this house? However, I shall know soon, I sup- 
pose.” 

And so saying, Claudia made a few changes in her toilet, 
and went into the parlor. 

Standing, looking from the window, was a lady dressed in a 
black velvet bonnet and plumes, a black silk gown, and a large 
sable cloak and muff. 

As Claudia entered, this lady turned around and lifted her 
veil, revealing a beautiful, pale face, with large, deep-fringed, 
mournful dark eyes, and soft, rippling, jet-black hair. At the 
first glance Claudia was touched by the pensive beauty of that 
lovely face. 

Yes! at the age of forty-five the Countess of Hurstmonceux 
was still beautiful. She had passed a serene life, free alike 
from carking cares and fashionable excesses, and so her beauty 
had been well preserved. It would have taken a keen observer 
to have detected the few wrinkles that had gathered in the cor- 
ners of her fine eyes and plump lips, or to have found out the 
still fewer silver threads that lay hidden here and there among 
her dark tresses. 

Claudia advanced to greet her, holding out her hand, and 
saying : 


270 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

“ The Countess of Hurstmonceux, I presume ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied the visitor, with a sweet smile. 

am Lady Vincent; and very happy to see you. Pray be 
seated,” said Claudia, drawing forward a chair for her visitor. 

My dear Lady Vincent, I only learned this morning of your 
arrival in town, and presuming upon my slight connection with 
the family of the present Earl of Hurstmonceux, I have ven- 
tured to call on you and claim a sort of relationship,” said 
Berenice kindly. 

“Your ladyship is very good, and I am very glad to see 
you,” said Claudia cordially. Then suddenly recollecting her 
own cruel position, and feeling too proud as well as too honest 
to appear under false colors, she blushed, and said : 

“ I cannot think how your ladyship could know that I was 
here ; but I am sure that when you did me this honor of calling, 
you did not know the circumstances under which I left Castle 
Cragg.” 

A tide of crimson swept over the pale face of Berenice; it 
arose for Claudia, not for herself, and she replied : 

“ My dear, wronged lady, I know it all.” 

“You know all — all that they allege against me, and you 
call me wronged ? ” exclaimed Claudia, in pleased surprise. 

“ I know all that they allege against you, and I believe you 
to be wronged. Therefore, my dear, I have come to-day to offer 
you all the service in my power,” said Berenice sweetly. 

Claudia suddenly caught her hand and clasped it fervently. 

“ And now, my dear Lady Vincent, will you permit me to 
explain myself and inform you how I became acquainted 
with the circumstances of your departure from Castle Cragg, 
and your arrival at this house ? ” inquired Berenice. 

“ Oh, do ! do ! ” replied Claudia. 

“ You must know, then, that a few of my old domestics, who 
served the late earl and myself while we lived at Castle Cragg, 
still remain there in the service of the present earl’s family, 
which is always represented at the castle by Lord Vincent. 
Among them there are two, who, it appears, became very much 
attached to your ladyship. I allude to the housekeeper, Jean 
Murdock, and the major-domo, Cuthbert Allan.” 

“Yes, they were very kind; but, after all, it was old Cuth- 
bert who sent that note to Lord Vincent, wLich brought him 
from the play at midnight to burst into my room and find his 
wretched valet hidden there,” replied Claudia gravely. 


THE COUNTESS OF HURSTMONCEUX. 


271 


‘^Yes; Cuthbert saw the valet steal into your room and sent 
word to his master, as’ in duty bound. But, after witnessing 
the scene of his discovery, Cuthbert’s mind instantly cleared 
your ladyship of suspicion and rushed to the conclusion that 
the miserable valet concealed himself in your boudoir 
unknown to you and for the purpose of robbery. I, for 
my part, believe he was placed there with the connivance of 
Lord Vincent, and that old Cuthbert was made to play a blind 
part in that conspiracy.” 

I knew, of course, that it was a conspiracy, but really won- 
dered to find the honest old man in it.” 

“ He was a blind tool in their hands. But I was about to 
tell you how the facts of your departure from the castle and 
your arrival in this hotel came to my knowledge. In brief, 
I received a letter from old Cuthbert this morning, in which he 
related the whole history of the affair, as it was known to him. 
He expressed great sorrow for the part he had been obliged 
to bear in the business, and the most respectful sympathy for 
your ladyship. He said his ^ heart was sair for the bonnie 
leddy sae far frae a’ her friends and living her lane in Edin- 
boro’ toun.’ And he begged me to find you out and protect 
you. To this letter was added a postscript by Jean Murdock. 
It was a warm, humble, respectful encomium upon your lady- 
ship, in which she joined her prayers to those of Cuthbert that 
that I would seek you out and succor you.” 

As Berenice spoke, blushes dyed the cheeks of Claudia, and 
tears dropped from her eyes. She was softened by the kindness 
of those two old people, and their patronage humiliated her. 

Something of the nature of her emotions the countess must 
have divined, for she took the hand of Claudia and said: 

“ Believe me, dear Lady Vincent, I did not need urging to 
come to you. I needed only to know that you were in town and 
alone. As soon as I read the letters I sent for the morning 
paper to look for the arrivals at the various hotels, to see if I 
could find your name among them. I could not, and so I was 
about to lay aside the paper and sen4 for the one of the day 
before, when my eye happened to light on a paragraph in which 
I found your name. It was the robbery of your purse at Holy- 
rood Palace. There I learned your address. And I came away 
here immediately.” 

Claudia’s fingers tightened on the hand of the countess which 
she still retained in hers. 


272 SELF-KAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

How much I thank you, Lady Hurstmonceux, you can never 
know; because you have never felt what it is to be a stranger 
in a foreign country, with your fame traduced and not one 
friend to stand by your side and sustain you,” she said. 

Again that crimson tide swept over the pale face of Bere- 
nice; but this time it was for herself, and she answered: 

“ Oh, yes, yes ! I have known just that. Ten years in a for- 
eign country, forsaken, shunned, traduced, without one friend 

to speak comfort to an almost breaking heart It is past. 

I have overlived it. The God of my fathers has sustained me. 
Let us speak no more of it.” And crimson as she had been for 
a moment she was as pale as marble now. 

Claudia laid her hand caressingly upon the shoulder of 
Berenice and looked in her face with that mute sympathy 
which is more efPective than eloquent words. Something, in- 
deed, she had. heard of this before, but the rumor had left no 
impression on her mind; though she blamed herself now for 
the momentary forgetfulness. 

“ Let us speak of yourself and your plans for the future,” 
said the countess. 

“ My plans are simple enough. I have written to my father. 
I shall remain here until his arrival,” said Claudia. 

There was a pause between them for a few minutes, during 
which the countess seemed in deep thought, and then this 
still beautiful woman, smiling, said: 

“I. am old enough to be your mother. Lady Vincent, and in 
the absence of your father, I hope you will trust yourself to 
my guardianship. It is not well, under present circumstances, 
that you should remain alone at a public hotel. Come with me 
and be my guest at Cameron Court. It is a pretty place, near 
Koslyn Castle, and despite all the evil in the hearts of men, I 
think I can make your visit there pleasant and interesting.” 

Claudia burst into tears; the proud Claudia was softened, 
almost humbled by this unexpected kindness. 

God bless you ! ” was all that she could say. “ I will gladly 

go.” 

‘‘I am your mother, in the meantime, Claudia, you know,” 
said Lady Hurstmonceux, touching the bell. 

You are my guardian angel ! ” sobbed Claudia. 

Lady Vincent’s bill, if you please,” said the countess to the 
waiter who answered the bell, and who immediately bowed and 
disappeared. 


THE KESCDE. 273 

But Claudia grasped the arm of the countess and exclaimed 
in alarm : 

“ I had forgotten. I cannot leave the hotel yet, because I 
cannot pay the bill. My lost purse contained all the money 
that I brought from Castle Cragg.” 

“What of that? I am your mother, Claudia, until you hear 
from your father; and your banker until you recover your 
money. Now, my dear, go put on your bonnet, while I settle 
with the w’aiter. My carriage is at the door, and we will go 
at once. I will send my own maid in a fly to pack up your 
effects and bring them after us.” 

“ How much my father will thank and bless you! ” said Clau- 
dia, as she left the room to prepare herself. 

Lady Hurstmonceux paid the bill, and left half a sovereign 
in the hands of the chambermaid, bidding her take care of Lady 
Vincent’s effects until they should be sent for. 

And when Claudia came out, equipped for her ride, they went 
below stairs. 

A handsome brougham, painted dark green, drawn by fine 
gray horses, with silver mountings on their harness and with a 
coachman and footman in gray-and-green livery stood before 
the door. 

And the countess and her protegee entered it and were driven 
towards the Cameron Court. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE RESCUE. 

The tide has ebbed away; 

No more wild surging ’gainst the adamant rocks, 

No swayings of the sea-weed false that mocks 

The hues of gardens gay; 

No laugh of little wavelets at their play I 
No lucid pools reflecting Heaven’s brow — 

Both storm and cloud alike are ended now. 

The gray, bare rocks sit lone; 

The shifting sand lies so smooth and dry 
That not a wave might ever have swept by 

To vex it with loud moan. 

Only some weedy fragments blackening grown 
To dry beneath the sky, tells what has been; 

But desolation’s self has grown serene. 

— Anon. 

We must now relate what happened to Ishmael and his com- 
panions after they were deserted by the lifeboats. When they 


274 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

were out of sight he dropped his eyes and bent his head in 
prayer for himself and his fellow-sufferers, and thus awaited 
his fate. 

But, oh. Heaven of heavens! what is this? Is it death, or 
—life? 

The wreck that had been whirling violently around at the 
mercy of the furious sea was now lifted high upon the crest 
of a wave and cast further up upon the reef, where she rested 
in comparative safety. 

So suddenly and easily had this been done that it was some 
minutes before the shipwrecked men could understand that they 
were for the present respited from death. 

It was Ishmael who now inspired and confirmed their hopes. 

^‘Friends,” he exclaimed, in a deep, earnest, solemn voice, 
as he looked around upon them, “ let us return thanks to the 
Lord, for we are saved ! ” 

“Yes; saved from immediate death by drowning, but per- 
haps not saved from a slow death of starvation,” observed a 
“ doubting Thomas ” of their number. 

“ The Lord never mocks his servants with false hopes. We 
are saved I ” repeated Ishmael emphatically, but with the deep- 
est reverence. 

For some hours longer the wind raved and the sea roared 
around the wreck; but even the highest waves could not now 
wash over it. As the sun arose the mist cleared away and 
the wreck gradually dried. About noon the sea began to sub- 
side. And at sunset all was calm and clear. 

Ishmael and his companions now suffered from only two 
causes — ^hunger and cold — the sharpest hunger and the most 
intense cold ; for every single atom and article that could be pos- 
sibly used for food or covering had been washed out of the 
wreck and swept off to sea. And all day long they had been 
fasting and exposed to all the inclemency of that severe season 
and climate. And during the ensuing night they were in dan- 
ger of death from starvation or freezing. But they huddled 
closely together and tried to keep life within them by their 
mutual animal heat ; while Ishmael, himself confident of timely 
rescue, kept up their hopes. 

It was a long and trying night. But it ended at last. Day 
dawned; the sun arose. 

Then Ishmael saw some fragments of the wreck that had been 
tossed upon the rocks and left there by the retiring waves. 


THE EESCUE. 


275 


'Among them was a long spar. This he directed the men to 
drag up upon the deck. The men, who were weak from hunger 
and numb from cold, could scarcely find power to obey this order. 
But when they did, Ishmael took off his own shirt and fastened 
it to the end of the spar, which he immediately set up in its 
position as a flag-staff. They had no glass, and therefore could 
not sweep the horizon in search of a sail. But Ishmael had 
an eagle’s piercing glance, and his fine eyes traveled continually 
over the vast expanse of waters in the hope of approaching 
rescue. 

At last he cried out : 

“ A sail from the eastward, friends ! ” 

“ Hurrah ! but are you sure, sir ? ” broke from half a dozen 
lips, as all hands, forgetting cold and hunger, weakness and 
stiffness, sprang upon their feet and strained their eyeballs 
in search of the sail; which they could not yet discern. 

“ Are you quite certain, sir ? ” someone anxiously inquired. 

Quite. I see her very plainly.” 

But if she should not see our signal ! ” groaned “ doubting 
Thomas.” 

“ She sees it. She is bearing rapidly down upon us ! ” ex- 
claimed Ishmael. 

I see her now ! ” cried one of the men. 

And so do I ! ” said another. 

And so do I ! ” added a third. 

She is not a sail-boat, she is a steamer,” said a fourth, as 
the ship came rapidly towards the wreck. 

“ She is the ^ Santiago,’ of Havana,” said Ishmael, as she 
steamed on and came within hailing distance. 

Then she stopped, blew off her steam, and sent out a boat. 
While it was cleaving the distance between the ship and the 
rocks a man on the deck of the former shouted through his 
trumpet : 

“Wreck ahoy!” 

“ Aye, aye ! ” responded Ishmael, with all the strength of his 
powerful lungs. 

“ All safe with you ? ” 

“All safe!” 

As the boat was pushed up as near as it could with safety be 
brought to the wreck, the frozen and famished men began to 
climb down and drop into it. When they were all in, even to 
the professor, Ishmael stepped down and took his place among 


276 self-raised; or, from the depi'hs. 

them with a smile of joy and a deep throb of gratitude to God. 
For, ah! the strong young man had loved that joyous and 
powerful life which he had been so prompt to ojffer up on the 
chrine of duty; and he was glad and thankful to return to 
life, to work, to fame, to love, to Bee! 

The boatmen laid themselves to their oars and pulled vigor- 
ously for the steamer. They were soon alongside. 

The men made a rush for her decks. They wanted to be 
warmed and fed. Ishmael let them all go before him, and then 
he followed and stepped upon the steamer. 

And the next moment he found himself seized and clasped 
in the embrace of — Mr. Brudenell ! 

“ Oh, my son, my brave and noble son, you are saved ! God 
is kinder to me than I deserve ! ” he cried. 

“ One moment, Brudenell ! Oh, Ishmael, thank Heaven, you 
are safe!” fervently exclaimed another voice — that of Judge 
Merlin, who now came forward and warmly shook his hand. 

“ Ant dere ish — von more — drue shentlemans — in te vorlt ! ” 
sobbed the German Jew, seizing and pressing one of Ishmael’s 
hands. 

Captain Mountz, Doctor Kerr, and in fact all Ishmael’s late 
fdlow-passengers, now crowded around with earnest and even 
tearful congratulations. 

And meanwhile dry clothes and warm food and drink were 
prepared for the shipwrecked passengers. And it was not until 
Ishmael had changed his raiment and eaten a comfortable 
breakfast that he was permitted to hear an explanation of the 
unexpected appearance of his friends upon the deck of the 
steamer. 

It happened that the passengers in the lifeboats, after sulfer- 
ing severely with cold and with the dread of a slow death from 
exposure for twelve hours, were at last picked up by the 
“ Santiago,” a Spanish steamer bound for Havana. That after 
their wants had been relieved by the captain of the “ Santiago ” 
they had told him of the imminently perilous condition in 
which they had left the remnant of the crew and passengers. 
And the captain had altered the course of the ship in the 
forlorn hope of yet rescuing those forsaken men. And the 
Lord had blessed his efforts with success. Such was the story 
told by Mr. Brudenell and Judge Merlin to Ishmael. 

“But, oh, my dear boy, what a fatal delay! Just think of 
it! This steamer is bound for Havana. And this very day, 


THE RESCUE. 


277 

when we ought to be landing on the shores of England, we find 
ourselves steaming in an opposite direction for the West India 
Islands,” said Judge Merlin. 

“ Oh, sir, trust still in Heaven,” answered Ishmael. Think 
how marvelously the Lord has delivered us from danger and 
death! This very delay that seems so fatal may be absolutely 
necessary to our final success.” 

The words of Ishmael proved prophetic. For had it not been 
for their shipwreck and the consequent alteration in their 
course, their voyage to England would have been taken in 
vain. 

The Santiago ” steamed her way southward, and in due 
course of time, without the least misadventure, reached the port 
of Havana. 

It was Sunday, the first of January, when they arrived. 

‘^We shall have no trouble with the Custom House officers 
here,” laughed Ishmael, as he gave his arm to Judge Merlin 
and went on shore, leaving all the passengers who had not 
been shipwrecked, and lost their luggage, to pass the ordeal he 
and his friends had escaped. 

They went at once to the hotel which had been recommended 
to them by the captain of the Santiago.” 

And as this was Sunday, and there was no English Protest- 
ant church open, they passed the day quietly within doors. 

On Monday Judge Merlin’s first care was to go to the Ameri- 
can consul and get the latter to accompany him to a banker, 
from whom he procured the funds he required in exchange for 
drafts upon his own Hew York bankers. 

While Judge Merlin was gone upon this errand Ishmael went 
down to the harbor to make inquiries as to what ships were 
to sail in the course of the week for Europe. 

He found that he had a choice between two. The “ Mary,” 
an English sailing ship, would leave on Wednesday for London. 
And the “ Cadiz,” a screw steamer, would sail on Saturday for 
the port whose name she bore. 

Ishmael mentally gave preference to the swift and sure 
steamer, rather than the uncertain sailing packet; but he felt 
bound to refer the matter to Judge Merlin before finally de- 
ciding upon it. 

With this purpose he left the harbor and entered the city. He 
was passing up one of the narrow granite-paved streets in the 
neighborhood of the grand cathedral where lie the ashes of 


278 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

Columbus, when he was startled by hearing quick and heavy 
footsteps and a panting, eager voice behind him: 

“Marse Ishmael! Marse Ishmael Worth! Oh, is it you, 
sir, dropped from the clouds to save me ! Marse Ishmael ! Oh, 
stop, sir ! Oh, for de Lord’s sake, stop I ” 

Ishmael started and turned around, and, to his inexpressible 
amazement, stood face to face with old Katie. 

“ Oh, Marse Ishmael, honey, is dis you ? Is dis indeed you, 
or only de debbil deceiving of me 1 ” she exclaimed, panting 
for breath as she caught him by the greatcoat, and grasping 
him as the drowning grasp a saving plank. 

“ Katie ! ” exclaimed Ishmael, in immeasurable astonishment. 

“ Yes, honey, it’s Katie. Yes, my dear chile, ole Katie an’ 
no ghose, nor likewise sperit, dough you might think I is 1 But 
oh, Marse Ishmael! is you, you? Is you reely an’ truly you, 
and no, no ’ception ob de debbil ? ” 

“ Katie ! ” repeated Ishmael, unable to realize the fact of 
her presence. 

“ Hi ! what I tell you ? Oh, Marse Ishmael, chile, don’t go 
for to ’ny your old Aunt Katie, as nussed you good when you 
lay out dere for dead at Tanglewood! don’t!” said the poor 
creature, clinging to his coat. 

“ Katie ! ” reiterated Ishmael, unable to utter another word. 

Laws a massy upon top of me, yes ! I keep on telling you, 
chile, I is Katie! don’t ’ny me; don’t ’ny me in my ’stress, 
Marse Ishmael, if ebber you ’spects to see hebben ! ” she said, 
beginning to cry. 

“ I do not deny you, Katie ; but I am lost in amazement. How 
on earth came you here ? ” asked Ishmael, staring at her. 

“I didn’t come on earth at all. I come by de sea. Oh, 
Marse Ishmael! I done died since I lef’ you! done died and 
gone to the debbil ! been clar down dar in his place, which it aint 
’spectable to name! done died and gone dere and come to life 
again, on a ship at sea.” 

“Who brought you here, Katie?” questioned Ishmael, thor- 
oughly perplexed. 

“ De debbil, honey ! de debbil, chile ! Sure as you lib it was 
de debbil ! Oh, Marse Ishmael, honey, stop long o’ me ! Don’t 
go leabe me, chile, don’t! Mow de Lor’ has sent you to me, 
don’t go leabe me. You is all de hopes I has in de world!” 
she cried, clinging with desperate perseverance to his coat. 

“ I will not leave you, Katie. I have not the least intention 


THE llESCUE. 279 

of doing so. But all this is quite incompreh^sible. Where is 
your mistress ? She is never here ? ” said Ishmael. 

“ I dunno. I dunno nuffin ’bout my poor dear babyship — 
ladyship, I mean; only my head is so ’fused! Oh, lor’, don’t 
go break away from me ! don’t, Marse Ishmael ! ” 

“ I will not desert you, Katie, be assured that I will not ; 
but let go my coat and try to compose yourself. Don’t you see 
that you are collecting a crowd around us ? ” expostulated 
Ishmael. 

But Katie hung fast, saying: 

“ ’Deed I can’t! ’Deed I can’t, Marse Ishmael! If I let 
go of you I shall wake up an’ find you is all a dream, an’ I’ll 
be as bad off as ebber,” persisted Katie, taking Ishmael more 
firmly into custody than ever. 

He laughed; he could not help laughing at the ludicrous 
desperation of his captor. But his astonishment and wonder 
were unabated; and he saw that Katie could not give a lucid 
explanation of her presence on the island, or at least not until 
her excitement should have time to subside. 

Besides the crowd of negroes, mulattoes, and creoles, men, 
women, and children, who had gathered around them, with open 
eyes and mouths, was still increasing. 

Katie,” he said, “we cannot talk in the middle of the 
street with all these people staring at us. So come with ” 

“ Oh, lor’, Marse Ishmael,” interrupted Katie, “ don’t you 
mind dese poor trash ! Dey can’t speak one word o’ good Chris- 
tian talk, nor likewise understand a Christian no mor’n dumb 
brutes. Dey is no better nor barbariums, wid dere o’s and ro’s 
ebery odder word. Don’t mind dem herrin’s.” 

“But, Katie, they have eyes. Come with me to the hotel. 
You will find your old master there.” 

“ Who ? My ole ” began Katie, opening her mouth, which 

remained open as if incapable of closing again, much less of 
uttering another syllable. 

“ Yes, Judge Merlin is here.” 

“Myol^-^ — Well, Lor’!” 

“ Come, Katie.” 

“My ole If ebber I heard de like! WTiat de name o’ 

sense he doin’ here? An’ same time, what you doin’ here your- 
self, Marse Ishmael? ” 

“ Katie, it is a long story. And I fancy we both, you and I, 
have much to tell. Will you come with me to my hotel?” 


280 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

“Will I come, Marse Ishmael? Why wouldn’t I come den? 
Sure I’ll come. I don’t mean to do nuffin else; nor likewise let 
go of you, nor lose sight of you, de longest day as eber I lib, 
please my ’Vine Marster, don’t I; so dere!” replied the old 
creature, tightening her clasp upon Ishmael’s coat. 

“ Oh, Katie, Katie, but that would be too much of a good 
thing,” said Ishmael, smiling. 

“ Dey done sent me arter pines. Fetch pines! I don’t care 
as ebber I see a pine again as long as ehber I lib. I gwine to 

my own ole , De Lor’ ! but de thought o’ he being here ! ” 

cried Klatie, breaking off in the middle of her speech again to 
give vent to her amazement. 

“Now, Katie, you must walk by my side; but, really, you 
must let go my coat,” said Ishmael kindly, but authoritatively. 

“If I do, you promise me not to run away?” said Katie 
half pleadingly and half threateningly. 

“ Of course I do.” 

“ Nor likewise wake me up to find it all a dream? ” 

“ Certainly not, Katie.” 

“ Well, den, I trust you, Marse Ishmael — ^I trust you,” said 
Katie, releasing her hold on him. “ ’Dough, ’deed and ’deed,” 
she added doubtingly, “ so many queer things is happened of 

since I done left my ole Goodness gracious me! to think 

o’ he being here! — ^marster; and so many people and so many 
places has ’peared and dis’peared, dat, dere! I aint got no con- 
ference in nothing.” 

“I hope that you will recover your faith with your happi- 
ness, Katie. And now come on, my good woman,” said Ishmael, 
who felt extremely anxious to get from her, as soon as they 
should reach the hotel, some explanation of her presence on 
the island, and some news of her unfortunate mistress. 

They walked on as rapidly as the strength of the old woman 
would allow, for Ishmael would not permit her to put herself 
out of breath. When they reached the hotel Ishmael told 
Katie to follow him, and so led her to her master's apartments. 

They stopped outside the door. 

“You must remain here until I go in and see if the judge 
has returned from his ride from the bank. And if he has, I 
must prepare him for your arrival here; for your master has 
aged very much since you saw him last, Katie, and the sur- 
prise might hurt him,” whispered Ishmael, as he turned the 
doorknob and went in. 


THE RESCUE. 281 

The judge had just returned. He was seated at the table, 
counting out money. 

“ Ha, Ishmael, my boy, have you got back ? ” he asked, look- 
ing up from his work. 

“ Yes, sir; and I have the choice of two packets to offer you. 
The brig ‘Mary’ sails for London on Wednesday; the steamer 
‘ Cadiz ’ sails for the port of Cadiz on Saturday. The choice 
remains with you,” said Ishmael, putting down his hat and 
seating himself. 

“ Oh, then we will go by the ‘ Cadiz ’ ; though she sails at a 
later day, and for a farther port, we shall reach our destination 
sooner, going by her, than we should to go in a sailing packet 
bound direct for London.” 

“I think so too, sir; there is no certainty in the sailing 
packets. I hope you succeeded at the bank ? ” 

“ Perfectly ; our consul, Tourneysee, went with me, to identify 
me and vouch for my solvency, and I got accommodated without 
any difficulty whatever. And now I must insist upon being 
banker for our whole party until we reach England.” 

“ I thank you, sir, in behalf of my father as well as myself,” 
said Ishmael. 

“ How, let me see — nine hundred and seventy, eighty, ninety, 
an hundred — that is one thousand. I will lay that by itself,” 
muttered the judge, still counting his money. 

“ I met an old acquaintance down in the city,” said Ishmael, 
gradually feeling his way towards the announcement of Katie. 

“ Ah ! ” said the judge indifferently, and going on with his 
counting. 

“An old friend, indeed, I may say,” added Ishmael em- 
phatically. 

“Yes,” replied the judge absently, and continuing to count. 

“ Judge Merlin,” inquired Ishmael, in a meaning tone, “ have 
you no curiosity to know who it was that I met near the 
quays ? ” 

“Ho,” said the old man, counting diligently; “some fellow 
you knew in Washington, I suppose, my boy. Why, the Lord 
bless you, I stumbled over half a dozen acquaintances on my 
way to the consulate and the bank. Among them Frank Tour- 
neysee, who is staying here with his brother for the benefit of 
his health. He is a consumptive, poor man ! crossed in love ; or 
something; 

“ Sir, it was no casual acquaintance or ordinary friend that 


282 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

I met,” said Ishmael, in so grave a voice that the judge looked 
up from his work and stared in wonder, not at the words, but 
at the manner of the speaker. 

It was no man, but a woman, sir,” continued Ishmael, 
fixing his eyes wistfully upon the face of the old man. 

It was Claudia ! ” cried the judge, in an ear-piercing voice, 
jumping at once at the most improbable conclusion, as he started 
up, pale as death, and gazed with breathless anxiety upon the 
grave face of Ishmael. 

“ No, Judge Merlin,” answered the young man, as he gently 
replaced him in his seat; ‘^no, it was not Lady Vincent; but 
it is one who, I hope, can give us later news of her.” 

“Who — ^vio was it then?” gasped the old man, trembling 
violently. 

Ishmael poured out a glass of water and handed it to the 
judge, saying calmly : 

“ It was old Katie whom I met.” 

“Katie!” cried the judge, in astonishment, and holding the 
glass of water suspended in his hand. 

“Katie. But drink your water. Judge Merlin; it will refresh 
you.” 

“ Katie 1 But where is her mistress ? ' demanded the old man, 
in burning anxiety. 

“I do not know, sir; Katie was too much excited by the 
shock of her meeting with me and hearing that you were on the 
island to give any coherent account of herself.” 

“ But — how came she here if not in attendance upon her mis- 
tress? And — ^what should have brought Claudia here? — unless 
she should have been on her voyage home to me, and got wrecked 
and brought here, as we have been, 'which is not likely.” 

“No; that is too improbable to have happened, I should 
think. But drink the water, sir, let me beg of you.” 

“ I will. I will, Ishmael, when I have qualified it a little 1 ” 
said the judge, tottering to his feet and going to a buffet upon 
which stood some Jamaica rum. He mixed a strong glass of 
spirits and water, drank it, and returned to his seat, saying, 
as he sank into it with a deep sigh of refreshment: 

“ I feel better. Where is Katie? And how in the world came 
she here ? And what news does she bring of her mistress ? ” 

“Katie is outside that door, sir, waiting for you to receive 
her.’' 

“Let her come in, then, Ishmael.” 


A father’s vengeance. 


283 


CHAPTER XXXY. 

A father’s vengeance. 


Haste me to know it; that I, with wings as swift 
As meditation or the thoughts of love, 

May sweep to my revenge! 

—Shakespeare. 

Tshmael went to the door and admitted Katie. The old 
woman made an impulsive rush towards her master, but stopped 
and burst into a passion of tears so violent that she was scarcely 
able to stand. 

Sit down, Katie. Sit down and compose yourself. Your 
master will not take it amiss that you sit in his presence,” said 
Ishmael, pushing a low, soft chair towards the woman, while 
he glanced inquiringly towards the judge. 

“ Certainly not ; let her rest ; sit down, Katie. How do you 
do? ” said the judge, going towards his old servant and holding 
out his hands. 

“ Oh, marster ! Oh, marster ! ” sobbed Katie, sinking into 
the seat and clinging to her master’s venerable hands, upon 
which her tears fell like rain. 

The judge gently withdrew his hands, but it was only that 
he might use them for Katie’s relief. 

He poured out a glass of the same restorative that he had 
found so effectual in his own case, and he made her drink it. 

Poor Katie was unused to such stimulants, and she imme- 
diately felt its effects. Her eyes sparkled threateningly as she 
set the empty glass down upon the table. 

Ah ! ” she exclaimed, with indescribable force of spite ; 
^‘ah, the whited saltpeter! Now I send her to de penumteii- 
shury; now I send her dere to pick oakum in a crash gown and 
cropped hair, and an oberseer wid a big whip to drive her 1 ” 

“ What is she talking of ? What does she mean by whited 
saltpeter?” inquired the judge. 

“ ^ Whited sepulchre ’ is Katie’s Scripture name for a hypo- 
crite, I suppose,” suggested Ishmael. 

^^NTot on’y for a hypocrite, Marse Ishmael! Not on’y for a 
hypocrite ; but for a pi’son, ’ceitful, lyin’ white nigger ! ” said 
Katie, with her eyes snapping. 


284 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

Katie, Katie, you are using ugly words,” remonstrated the 
judge. 

“Kot half so venomous ugly as dem I applies ^em to, beg- 
ging your pardon, ole marse,” said the woman, with a positive 
nod of her head. 

Where did you leave your lady?” inquired the judge, who 
had been almost dying of anxiety to ask this question, but had 
refrained on account of Katie’s excessive agitation. “ Where 
did you leave your mistress ? ” 

“ Le’me see. Where did I leave her ag’in ? Oh ! I ’members 
exactly now. ’Deed I got good reason to ’member dat night, 
if I never ’members anoder day nor night of my life.” 

Tell us, Katie,” said Ishmael. 

^^Well, den, I done lef’ her on de grand staircase o’ de 
castle a-goin’ down to dinner. And she looked beautiful in her 
rosy more antics, just like a lamb dressed for the sacrifice, 
’cordin’ to de Scriptur’. And she unsuspicionin’ anything and 
me dyin’ to tell her, on’y she wouldn’t stop to listen to me.” 

To tell her what, Katie ? ” ^ 

^‘Why, laws, honey, ’bout de debblish plot as my lordship 
and dat whited saltpeter and de shamwalley plotted ag’in her — 
ag’in her, my own dear babyship — ^ladyship, I meant to say.” 

“ There was a plot, then ? ” inquired Ishmael, with forced 
calmness, for he wished quietly to draw out the woman’s story 
without agitating and confusing her. “ There was a plot 
then?” 

“Oh, wasn’t dere? De blackest plot ag’in my ladyship as 
ebber de old debbil hisse’f could o’ put in anybody’s head. And 
I heard it all! And I heard it all good, too.” 

“What was it, Katie? Can you tell us?” inquired Ishmael, 
while the judge bent his pale, careworn, and anxious face 
nearer the speaker. 

“ Well, Marse Ishmael, you know how solemn you cautioned 
me to watch ober my ladyship, don’t you, sir ? ” 

“Yes, Katie; yes.” 

“ Well, I beared what you said in mind. And de dear knows 
as my poor dear ladyship did ’quire to be watched ober worse 
nor anybody I ebber seed. It seems like you was a prophet, 
Marse Ishmael, ’cause how you know how she was going to 
be sitterated.” 

“Never mind, Katie. Go on and tell us of the plot,” said 
Ishmael, while Judge Merlin’s face grew sharp and i>eaked in 


A father’s vengeance. 285 

his silent an^ish of suspense. But both knew that it was best 
to let Katie tell her story in her own way. 

“ Well, Marse Ishmael, sir, I laid to heart what you tolled 
me so solemn, and I did watch ober my ladyship, and I watched 
ober her good! And she didn’t know it, nor likewise no- 
body else. And berry soon I saw as my ladyship was 
’rounded by inimies. And as dat whited saltpeter was a’tryin’ 
to take her husband away from her. And den ag’in I say plain 
’nough as my lordship was willin’ ’nough for to be tuk, for dat 
matter. So I watched him and de whited saltpeter.” 

But who is it that you call Hie whited sepulchre, Katie ? ” 
demanded the judge. 

Why, who but his sisser-in-law ! his sisser-in-law what lib 
long o’ him; yes! and libbed long o’ him afore ebber my poor, 
dear, ’ceived ladyship ebber see him ! ” 

“ But who was this lady, and what was her name ? ” asked 
the judge. 

“ She warn’t no lady ! She was an oppry singer, as was no 
better ’an she should be, and as had misled away my lordship’s 
younger brother, who married of her, and died, and serve him 
right, de ’fernally fool ! And den ebber since he died she done 
lib long o’ my lordship at de castle. And her name is Mrs. 
Doogood, which is a ’fernally false, ’cause she nebber does no 
good! But my lordship, whenebber he’s palabering ob his sof’ 
nonsense to her, he call her, so he do, Fustunner! I s’pose 
’cause, when she quarrel wid him, she make fuss ’nough to stun 
a miller.” 

“ And this woman you say was my daughter’s enemy ? ” 

“ Well, I reckon, marster, as you would call her sich, ef you 
heerd de plot she and my lordship and de shamwalley made up 
agin my ladyship.” 

“Yes, but, Katie, you have not yet told us the plot,” said 
Ishmael. 

“Well, I gwine do it now, right off, Marse Ishmael! Well, 
you see I kept on watchin’ of ’em, till one day, it happened as 
a poor gal, one o’ de housemaids, was found wid her t’roat cut 
unnemeaf of de castle wall ” 

At this announcement Judge Merlin started and looked at 
Ishmael, but the young man made a sign that the judge should 
saj-^ nothing that might interrupt the thread of Katie’s narra- 
tive. Katie continued; 

“And de offercers ob de law tuk possession ob de castle to 


286 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

Squire inter who was de murderers ob de poor gal. But de more 
dey ’quired inter it, de more dey couldn^t find it out! And 
arter dey’d stayed dere a whole week ’quiring, dey was furder 
off from findin’ out nor ebber. So dey all up and sent in a wer- 
dick as de gal was foun’ wid her t’roat cut and nobody knowed 
who did it. Dat was de werdick. Which dey neednH o’ stayed 
’quiring and eaten’ and drinkin’ on us a whole week to tell us 
dat. ’Cause we knowed dat much afore. How-so-ebber, home 
dey all went and let de poor gal be buried. And I happened to 
be in de big ball and to cotch my eye on my lordship, as he said 
to his wally sham: 

“ ‘ Frisbie, I shall want you in my room presently ; so don’t 
be out o’ de way.’ 

“And I cotch my eye on Mr. Frisbie, too, and I see how he 
turned sort o’ white round de gills, and he say : 

“ I’ll be at hand, my lord.’ 

“I says: 

“ ‘ And so will I be at hand, my lord.’ 

“And sure ’nough, I goes and steals inter n^y lordship’s 
dressing room, unbeknown to anybody, and I hides myself 
ahind one ob dem thick curtains! And presently sure ’nough 
my lordship he comes in and rings for Mr. Frisbie. Marse 
Ishmael, honey, would you mind givin’ of your poor old Aunt 
Katie another tumbler o’ rum? ’Deed I don’t beliebe as I can 
go on wid de story widout somet’ing to s’port me.” 

“ So much rum is not good for you, Katie, but I will give 
you a glass of water,” said Ishmael. 

“ Oh, honey, no, don’t, please ! I don’t like water in de winter 
time, it allers gibs me a cold in the stummick. But rum warms 
me.” 

Judge Merlin, who was much too anxious that Katie should 
continue her story to be fastidious as to the means he took to 
that end, poured out and administered to the old creature a 
small portion of the spirits. 

“Tlianky, marster! thanky, chile! You’se got some feelin’ 
for ole folks, you has! Dese young people, dey aint got no 
’sideration, dey aint. Dat make me feel good all ober! now I 
gwine on. Well, Mr. Frisbie, he answers my lordship’s bell 
and he comes in, so he does. And den — oh ! Marse Ishmael ! — 
my lordship ’cuses ob him o’ bein’ de murderer! and tells him 
how he, my lordship, seen him, Mr. Frisbie, do de deed ! Well, 
Frisbie, he fell on his two knees and begged for marcy. And, 


287 


A father’s VEIS^GEANCE. 

oh! marster! my lordship promised to hide his crime on con- 
ditions — such conditions, Marse Ishmael ! 

“ What were they, Katie ? ” inquired J udge Merlin, in a dy- 
ing voice, for a suspicion of something like the truth made him 
reel. 

“ My lordship promised de shamwalley he would save him 
from de gallows if he would help him to get rid ob Lady Vin- 
cent.” 

There was an irrepressible exclamation of horror from Ish- 
mael and a low cry of anguish from Judge Merlin. But neither 
ventured to speak, lest by doing so he should confuse Katie, 
who continued her story. 

“ And so my lordship plotted wid de shamwalley, how he, de 
shamwalley, was to Tend to be fond o’ my ladyship, and follow 
arter her, and do sly things to draw de eyes o’ de household on 
her, make dem all s’picion her, and talk about her ” 

“ What 1 my daughter I Claudia Merlin ! ” exclaimed the 
judge, in a voice of thunder, as he started to his feet and stood 
staring at the speaker. 

“Oh, ole marse, for de Lord’s sake, don’t! You scare away 
all de little sense dem debbils has lef’ me ! ” cried Katie, shud- 
dering. 

“ His wretched lackey ! ” vociferated the judge. “ By all the 
fiends in flames. I’ll shoot that scoundrel Vincent with less 
remorse than I would a mad dog ! ” 

“ Oh, marster, yes ! shoot him or hang him, jus’ which ebber 
you thinks bes’! On’y don’t roar so loud; for ’deed it’s awful 
to hear you ! And besides, if you do, I can’t go on and tell you 
no more, and you ought to hear it all, you know,” shivered 
Katie. 

“ She is right, sir ! Pray compose yourself. Do you not see 
how important it is that we should have a clear statement of 
facts from this eye- and ear-witness of the conspiracy against 
Lady Vincent’s honor? Try to listen coolly, sir! as coolly as 
if you were on the bench. Be — not the father, but the judge,” 
earnestly remonstrated Ishmael, as he gently constrained his 
old friend to sit down again. 

“ Don’t you know that I will kill that man ? ” exclaimed the 
judge, as he sank into his seat. 

“I know that you will do just what a Christian gentleman 
should do in the premises,” gravely replied Ishmael. 

“ Go on ! what next ? ” demanded the judge, in a voice that 


288 self-kaised; oe, feom the depths. 

utterly upset Katie, who had to recover her composure before 
she could continue her statement. At last she said : 

Well, den, arter dey had ^ranged dat plot dey lef’ de room. 
And I come out and waylaid my ladyship to tell her all about 
it and put her on her guard. And I met her on de stairs jus’ 
as I telled you afore, and she looking like an angel o’ beauty; 
but she wouldn’t stop to listen to me. She tole me to go to her 
dressing room and wait for her there. And she walked down- 
stairs like any queen, so she did, and dat was de las’ as ebber I 
see ob my ladyship.” 

Here Katie paused for breath. Ishmael made a sign to Judge 
Merlin not to speak. Then Katie went on. 

“I goed to de dressin’ room; and I waited and waited hour 
arter hour, but my ladyship she nebber come. But while I was 
a-peeping t’rough de door, a-watching for her, in comes dat 
whited saltpeter and goes into her ’partments. And den soon 
arter comes my lordship, takin’ long, sly steps, like a cat as is 
gwine to steal cream. And he goes into Fustunner’s rooms.” 

Katie paused, drew a long breath, and vjent on. 

“You may be sure, marster, as I knowed he war a-going in 
dere to talk ober his debblish plot long o’ her. So I jus’ took 
a leaf out’n my lordship’s own book and I creeps along jus’ as 
sly as he could and I peeps t’rough de keyhole, and I sees as 
how dey wasn’t in de outermos’ room, but in de innermos’, 
dough all the doors was open in a row and I seen clear t’rough 
to de dressin’-room fire, where dey was bof a-standing facin’ 
of it, wid deir backs towards me. So I opens de door sof’, an’ 
steals in t’rough all de rooms to de las’ one, and hides myse’f 
in de folds ob de curtain as was drawed up one side o’ de door. 
So, sure ’nough, he was a-tellin’ of her ’bout de plot ag’n my 
ladyship, and how dey would ’trive t’rough de wallysham to 
make her api>ear guilty, so he could get a ’vorce from her, and 
keep her f ortin, and marry Fustunner ! ” 

“ Flames and furies ! ” burst forth the judge, starting to his 
feet; but Ishmael firmly, though gently, put him down again, 
and made an imploring sign that he should control his passion 
and listen in calmness. 

It took Katie some little time to get over this last startling 
shock before she could continue her story. 

“Kow, Marse Ishmael, if you don’t keep ole marster quiet, 
’deed I gwine shut up my mouf, ’cause he’s wuss on anybody’s 
narves dan an elected battery,” she said. 


A father’s vengeance. 289 

Go on, Katie, go on ! ” commanded Ishmael, as he stood by 
Judge Merlin’s chair and kept his arm over the old man’s 
shoulders. 

Well, den, he keep still. ’Deed I ’fraid he tears me up nex’ 
time he jump at me.” 

“ Have no uneasiness, Katie. Go on ! ” 

“Well, dat whited saltpeter — oh, but she’s deep! — ’proved ob 
de plot, and clapped her hands like a fool, and den she ’proved 
on de plot, too, for she planned out how dey should all make a 
party to go to de play, and pertend to inwite my ladyship to go 
’long too, which they knowed she wouldn’t do. And how dey 
should go widout her ; and how de shamwalley should hide him- 
se’f in my ladyship’s room, unbeknownst to her; and how dey 
should all come back and bust open de door and find him in 
dere; and how he should ’fess a lie as my ladyship invited him 

dere, and was in de habit ob so doing ” 

Here Ishmael had hard work to keep Judge Merlin down in 
his seat, and restrain the old man’s demonstrations within the 
limits of making awful faces and tearing out his own gray 
hair by the roots. 

Katie meanwhile continued : 

“Well, marster, jus’ when I had heerd dat much — cuss my 
nose! — I beg your pardon, Marse Ishmael, but — I sneezed! 
And nex’ minute my lordship had me by de t’roat, and den he 
began cussin’ and swearin’, an’ sassin’ at me hard as ebber he 
could. But didn’t I gib him good as he sent, soon as ebber he 
let go my t’roat? Well, childun, I jus’ did! But den, when 
dey foun’ out I had heern ebberyt’ing, and knowed all deir ’fer- 
nally tricks, and mean to ’form on dem, dey got scared, dey did ! 
And my lordship ax what was to he done ? And de whited salt- 
peter said how I mus’n’t be let to leabe de room alike. So when 
I heerd dat, I got scared; and anybody would in my place. So 
I opened my mouf to scream. But lor’, childun, he squeezed 
my t’roat till I loss my breaf as well as my voice. But I heerd 
him ax her ag’in what was to be done? For, you see, de ’fer- 
nally fool seemed to ’pend on her for ebberyt’ing. And he ax 
her couldn’t she help him? And she rushed about de room and 
f otch somefin, and he put it to my nose, and — I went dead ! ” 
“ It must have been chloroform,” suggested Ishmael. 

Dunno what it was ; but I’m sure I should know de truck 
ag’in. For of all de grape winyards and apple orchids and 
flower gardens as ebber smelt lovely, dat truck smelt de love- 


290 self-raised; or, frOx^i the depths. 

liest. And of all de silvery flutes and violins and pineannas 
and bells as ebber rung out for a wedding, dat truck did ring 
de silveriest t’rough my brain. And of all de ’luminations as 
ebber was Tuminated for de presiden’s ’lection, dat truck did 
’luminate my eyes. And tell you what, childun, dough dey was 
a-murdering of me wid it, de ’ceiving truck sent me right to 
hebben afore it sent me dead ! ” 

“ What next ? ” inquired Ishmael. 

“ Well, nex’ thing when I come to life ag’in, I found myself 
in a dark, narrow, steep place, going down — bump ! bump 1 
bmnp ! and den faster — ^bumpetty — bumpetty — bumpetty — 
bump ! till I t’ought ebbery blessed bone in my body would have 
been broke! And I t’ought how two debbils had hold of my 
soul, a-dragging it down to — you know where,” said Katie, 
rolling her eyes mysteriously. 

^‘Proceed,” said Ishmael. 

^‘Well, when dey got me to de bottom, dey drag me along 
a wet, hard, stony floor, so dey did; and I ’fraid to draw my 
bref ! Oh, marster ! I couldn’t tell you how far dey dragged me, 
till dey stopt. Den a voice said: 

“^Finish her here!’ — and dat was Fustunner’s voice. And 
den anoder voice answered and said : 

“ ^ She’s done for already.’ And dat was my lordship’s voice. 

“ And den I knowed as dey wa’n’t debbils — leastways not 
spiritual debbils — as had my soul, dragging it down to — you 
know where; but human debbils, as was takin’ of me down in 
some deep wault to kill me. So I t’ought de best t’ing I could 
do was to sham dead. So I kep’ my eyes shet and held my 
breaf, and shammed hard as I could. But somehow or ’noder 
I don’t t’ink I ’ceived my lordship. I t’ink I on’y ’ceived her. 
Anyways, he pitched me neck and crop into a dark, stony, wet 
cell, and locked de door on me, and den dey bof went away.” 

Here Katie paused and remained silent so long that Ishmael 
felt obliged again to set her going by saying : 

‘^Well, Katie, what followed?” 

“Why, nothing but darkness; blackness of darkness, Marse 
Ishmael, so thick it ’peared like I could feel it with my hands. 
I did get up on my feet and feel all around, and dere was 
nothing below, or ’round, or ober me but wet stone wall. And 
de place was so small, as I could stand dere and reach any 
part of de wall on any side ob me widout taking of a step. And 
wa’n’t dat a perty place to put a Christian ’oman into ? Deed, 


V A father’s vengeance. 291 

I beliebe I should o’ gib up de ghose, if I had had de fought 
to fink about myself. But I hadn’t. I fought only of my 
poor, dear ladyship up dere ’sposed to de treachery ob dem 
debbils wid nobody to warn her, nor likewise purtect her, poor 
dear baby! And when I t’ought o’ dat, seemed to me as my 
poor heart would ’a’ bust. And I beliebe it would, on’y dere 
came a divurtisement. For you see, I sets myself down in my 
’spair, on de cole stone floor; and soon as ebber I does dat, a 
whole passel o’ rats come a-nosin’ and a-smellin’ at me, and 
nibblin’ my shoes ’s if dey’d like to ’vour me alibe; and it tuk 
all my time and ’tention to dribe dem away.” 

That was horrible, Katie,” said Ishmael, in a tone of sym- 
pathy. 

“Well, so it was, Marse Ishmael; but for all dat somehow 
I was right down glad to see de rats — dey was alibe, and arter 
dey come, ’peared like de place wasn’t so much like a grabe; 
’sides which dey was company for me down dere in de dark, 
and dey gi’ me somefin to do, keepin’ dem offen me.” 

“ But, Katie, were you not afraid of being abandoned there 
and left to die?” 

“ Well, honey, I s’pose I should ha’ been ef I had t’ought of it. 
But, you see, I nebber t’ought o’ nothin’ but my poor, dear, 
desolate ladyship, as I tolled you before.” 

“Yes; I can easily understand that, Katie. Lady Vincent’s 
situation was even much worse than your own,” said Ishmael. 

“ Oh, the infernal scoundrel ! I’ll kill him ! I’ll shoot him 
like a dog, if I have to follow him all over the world and spend 
my life in the pursuit ! ” broke forth Judge Merlin. 

There ensued a short pause in the conversation, and then 
Ishmael, speaking in a low, calm tone, inquired: 

“ How long did you remain in that dungeon, Katie ? ” 

“’Deed, Marse Ishmael, chile, I dunno; cause, you see, I 
hadn’t no ways o’ keepin’ ’count o’ de time; for, you see, noon- 
day was jus’ as dark as midnight in dat den. So how I gwine 
tell when day broke, or when night come ag’in? or how many 
days broke, or how many nights come ? ” 

“ Then you have really no idea of how long you remained 
there ? ” 

“Kot a bit! ’Cause, you see, Marse Ishmael, ’pears to me, 
judging by my feelin’s, as I must a stayed dere about seben 
years. But den I don’t s’pose I stayed dat long neider, ’cause 
I know I nebber had nothin’ to eat nor drink all de time I was 


292 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

dere; which you know I couldn’t a’ fasted seben years, down 
dere, could I ? ” 

“ Not with safety to life and health, Katie,” smiled Ishmael. 

“ Well, den, if it wasn’t seben years, it was as long as ebber 
anybody could lib dere a-f astin’ ! ” 

“ How did you get out at last, Katie ? ” 

“ Well, now, Marse Ishmael, begging of your pardon, dat was 
the curiousest t’ing of all ! I dunno no more how I come out’n 
dat dark den, nor de man in de moon! I t’ink it was witch- 
craft and debbilment, dat’s what I t’ink,” whispered Katie, 
rolling her eyes mysteriously. 

“ Tell us what you do know, however,” said Ishmael. 

“ Well, all I know is jus’ dis; I had to keep my eyes open day 
and night to dribe de rats away. And tired and sleepy as I was, 
I dar’n’t go to sleep, for fear as dey would ’vour me alibe. Last, 
hows’eber, I was so dead tired, and so dead sleepy, dat I couldn’t 
keep awake no longer, and so I fell fas’ asleep, and now, Marse 
Ishmael, listen, ’cause I gwine to tell you somethin’ wery 
’stonishin’I Sure as I’m a-libbin’ ’oman, standin’ here afore 
your eyes, when I drapped asleep I was in dat dark den, unner 
de groun’, and when I waked up I was in a ship sailin’ on de 
big sea ! Dere ! you may beliebe me or not, as you choose, but 
dat is de truf e ! ” 

Judge Merlin and Ishmael exchanged glances and then the 
latter said: 

“ The case is a perfectly clear one to me, sir. While she slept 
she was made to inhale chloroform, and while under its influ- 
ence she was conveyed from her prison to the ship, very likely 
a smuggler; and was brought here and sold for a slave.” 

‘‘Dere! dere! If Marse Ishmael Wort aint hit de nail right 
on de head! To be sure it mus’ a been chloe-favm! And ’pears 
to me I has a faint membry as how I was dreaming o’ de same 
sweet scents and silver bells and rosy lights as I had ’sper- 
ienced once afore. To be sure it mus’ a been chloe-f awn ! And 
as for de rest, Marse Ishmael, it is all true as gospel! Sure 
’nough, dey did fetch me to dis island and dey did sell me for 
a slabe,” said old Katie. 

“ But hadn’t you a tongue in your head ? Couldn’t you have 
told the people here that you were free?” demanded Judge 
Merlin impatiently. 

“An’ sure, didn’t I do it? Didn’t I pallaber till my t’roat 
was sore? And didn’t poor Jim and Sally pallaber till deir 


A FATHER^S VENGEANCE. 29B 

t'roats was sore? And didn’t all t’ree of us pallaber togeder 
till we mos’ wore out our tongues? Didn’t do no good, dough! 
’Cause you see, de people here is sich barbariums dat dey can- 
not unnerstan’ one word o’ good Christian talk.” 

“ And if they had understood you, Katie, as some of them 
probably did, it would not have served you; your unsupported 
words would have never been taken. As you are aware, my dear 
judge, if you will take time to reflect,” added Ishmael, turning 
to Judge Merlin. 

Certainly, certainly,” replied the latter. 

But, Katie, you mentioned Sally and Jim. Is it possible 
that they also were kidnaped ? ” inquired Ishmael. 

“You better beliebe it, honey! ’Cause it’s true as gospel, 
chile! Now I gwine to tell you all about it. One o’ de fust 
tings I t’ought when I woke up and stared around to find my- 
self aboard dat vessel on de water, was dat I had died in dat 
cell and dat de angels was a-takin’ my soul across de Riber 
ob Jordan to the City ob de New Jerusalem ’cordin’ to de Scrip- 
tur’. On’y you see, chile, I wasn’t dat downright sure and 
sartain as I myse’f was a saint prepared for hebben; nor like- 
wise did de man as sat smoking and drinking at de table look 
like the chief ob de angels.” 

“In what part of the ship were you when you recovered 
your consciousness ? ” inquired Ishmael, who wished to have 
a clear idea of the “ situation.” 

“ In de cap’n’s cabin, Marse Ishmael. And dat was de cap’n, 
dough I didn’t know who he was, nor where I was, at de time. 
So I up and ax him: 

“‘Please, marster, if you please, sir, to tell me is I to go to 
hebben or t’other place ? ’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! you’ve come to, have you ? ’ says he, and he takes a 
pipe from de table and he whistles. 

“ And den a bad-lookin’ man comes down. And says de cap- 
tain to him: 

“‘Jack, bundle dis ’oman out’n here and put her into the 
steerage.’ 

“ And de ill-lookin’ man he says to me : 

“ ‘ Come along, blacky ! ’ 

“ And so I up and followed him to de deck, ’cause why not ? 
What was de use o’ resistin’ ? ’Sides which, I t’ought by going 
farder I might fine out more. And sure ’nough so I did! for 
soon as. ebber I got on deck, de fuss person I see was Jim, 


294 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

Which soon as ebher I see him, and he see me, he run, de poor 
boy, and cotch me ’round de neck, and hugged and kissed me, 
and said says he: 

^ Oh, my mammy I is dis you ? ’ 

“ And says I : 

“ ‘ Yes, Jim, it’s me! I died down dere, in a wault, in de bot- 
tom o’ de castle. When did you die, Jim? ’ 

^ Am I dead, mammy ? ’ says he. 

“ ‘ Why, to be sure you are,’ says I, ^ else how you come here ? ’ 

“ ‘ And dat’s true enough,’ says he. * On’y I didn’t know I 
was dead till you told me, mammy. Well, if I’m dead, I s’pose 
I must ’a’ died sudden. Cause I know I was well and hearty 
enough ; on’y dat I was troubled ’bout you, mammy ; and I went 
to sleep in my bed and when I waked up I was here.’ 

“Well, while Jim was talkin’ I heerd de man. Jack, say: 

“ ‘ Go along den, you cuss I dere’s your f rien’s.’ 

“And I looked up and dere he was a-pushing Sally along 
towards us! 

“ ^ And, oh, Sally,’ says I, ^ are you dead too? ’ 

“ ‘ Ko, Aunt Katie, I aint dead; but I’m stole! And I s’pects 
you all is too ! ’ And den she boo-hoo-ed right out. 

“ ^ Sally,’ says I, ^ you is dead ! ’ 

“‘No, I aint. Aunt Katie, I’s stole!’ she said, crying as if 
her heart would break. 

“ ‘ Sally,’ says I, ‘ you’s dead ! Now don’t ’ny it ! ’Cause what 
would be de use? For if you aint dead, how came you here?' 

“ ‘ I know how I come here well enough. I was stole out’n my 
bed and brought here. And my lordship help de t’ieves to steal 
me. I saw him.’ 

“ ‘ Mammy,’ says Jim, ‘ I reckon Sally’s in de right ob it. 
And ’deed I hopes she is ; ’cause you see if she aint dead, why 
no more are we; and if she was stole, why, it’s like as we was 
too ! ’ And den turnin’ round to Sally, he says, says he : 

“ ‘ Sally, tell us what happened to you.’ 

“ So Sally she told us how she hadn’t been able to sleep de 
night afore; and how towards mornin’ she t’ought she would 
get up and dress herse’f. And jus’ as she was a-puttin’ on her 
shoes, all ob a sudden de door opens and in walks my lordship, 
follyed by two men! which she was so ’stonished she could do 
nothing but stare, ’till my lordship sprung at her t’roat and put 
somefing to her nose, as mad . her faint away. Which ob course 
it mus’ a been chloe-fawn.’^ 


295 


A father’s vengeance. 

" Of course,” said Ishmael ; “ but go on with your statement.” 

“ Well, and Sally tole me how, when she come to herself, she 
was in dis wessel. But she says she wasn’t ’ceived one bit. She 
’membered eberyting. And she could swear to de men as stole 
her, which dey was my lordship — and a perty lordship he is! — 
and de captain o’ de wessel and de fust mate.” 

“ Sally will be a most invaluable witness against those felons. 
Judge Merlin, if she can be found and taken to England,” 
whispered Ishmael. 

The old man nodded assent. And Katie continued : 

“ Well, childun, afore I heerd Sally’s ’scription o’ how dey 
sarved her, I could a swoird as we was all dead, and on our 
woyage cross de riber of Jordan. But arter dat I was open to 
conwiction ; which you know, Marse Ishmael, I was allers ob a 
lib’ral, ’lightened turn o’ mind! And so I gib in as we was 
all alibe.” 

“Well, and what then, Katie? How did you reconcile your- 
self to your lot ? ” 

“Well, Marse Ishmael, you know how it is wid us poor cul- 
lered folks, as can’t eben call our childun our own ? Well, seeing 
as we was in de hand o’ de spoiler, we laid low and said nothin’. 
What would a been de use o’ makin’ a fuss dere? We couldn’t 
get out’n de wessel if dey’d let us, ’less we had gone inter de 
water. So we ’signed ourselves to carcumstances and did de 
bes’ we could till we arribed out here to dese Wes’ Stingy 
Islands and was put up for sale. Den we spoke; but we might 
jus’ as well a held our tongues; for as I tolled you afore, dese 
barbariums don’t unnerstan’ one blessed word o’ good Chris- 
tian talk. And so, Marse Ishmael, spite o’ all we could say, poor 
Jim was knocked down to a sinner-done as libe in de country, 
which sinner-done took him off dere. And Sally she was sole 
to a sinner-done as libs near de Captain General’s palace. Dese 
barbariums calls all de ladies and gemmen sinner-dones an’ 
sinner-doners. And I was give away to a ’fernal low shcp- 
keei>er near de quays.” 

“ Now, Judge Merlin,” said Ishmael, “ that we have heard 
her story, we must take very prompt measures.” 

“ What would you do, Ishmael ? ” 

Eor all answer, Ishmael rang the bell and ordered a carriage 
to be brought to the door immediately. That done, he turned to 
the judge and said: 

“ We must take Katie with us, ask Mr. Brudenell to accom- 


296 SELF-EAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

pany us, and drive first to the office of our consul. We shall 
require official assistance in the recovery of these servants. 
We must be quick, for we must get all this business settled 
in time for the sailing of the ^ Cadiz,’ in which we must return 
to England, and take these negroes with us. We must at any 
cost; even if we have to purchase them back at double the 
money for which they were sold. For you see that their testi- 
mony is all we require to overthrow Lord Vincent and vindi- 
vate his wife.” 

“ Oh, the infernal villain ! Do you think, Ishmael, that I 
shall be contented with simply overthrowing him in the divorce 
court? No! By all that is most sacred, I will kill him! ” thun- 
dered the judge. 

‘‘We will not have any divorce trial,” said Ishmael firmly. 
“We will not have your daughter’s pure name dragged through 
the mire of a divorce court; we will have Lord Vincent and his 
accomplices arrested and tried; the valet for murder, and the 
viscount and the opera singer for conspiracy and kidnaping. 
We have proof enough to convict them all; the valet will be 
hanged; and the viscount and the opera singer sentenced to 
penal servitude for many years. Will not that be sufficient 
punishment for the conspirators. And is it not better that the 
law should deal out retributive justice to them, than that you 
should execute unlawful vengeance ? ” inquired the young man. 

“ But my daughter ! My daughter ! ” 

“Your daughter shall be restored to you; her dower re- 
covered; her name preserved; and her honor perfectly, tri- 
umphantly vindicated.” 


CHAPTER XXXVT. 

ON THE viscount’s TRACK. 

Vengeance to God alone belongs; 

But when I think of all my wrongs 
My blood is liquid flame! 

— Marmkm. 

While Ishmael and Judge Merlin still conversed the carriage 
was announced. A message was dispatched to Mr. Brudenell; 
but the messenger returned with the news that the gentleman 
had gone out. 

Therefore Ishmael and the judge, taking Katie with them. 


OT^ THE viscount’s TRACK. 297 

entered tlie carriage and gave the order to be driven to the 
American consul’s office. 

The way was long, the carriage slow, and the judge boiling 
over with rage and impatience. 

It was well for Judge Merlin that he had Ishmael Worth 
beside him to restrain his passion and guide his actions. 

During the ride the young lawyer said : 

In conducting this affair. Judge Merlin, Lady Vincent’s 
welfare must be our very first consideration.” 

“ Oh, yes, yes ! ” 

“To do her any good we must act with promptitude.” 

“ Of course.” 

“ But to act with promptitude, great sacrifices must be made.’" 

“ What sacrifices ? ” 

“ In the first place, you must lay aside your desire for ven- 
geance upon the villainous kidnapers who brought your old ser- 
vents here and sold them.” 

“ Ah, but, Ishmael, I cannot bear to let them go unpunished.” 

“Believe me, no crime ever goes unpunished. These men, 
sooner or later, will be brought to justice. But if you attempt to 
prosecute them, you will be detained here for days, weeks, and 
perhaps even months. For, once having laid so grave a charge 
against any man, or set of men, you would be compelled to re- 
main as a prosecuting witness against them. And the delay 
would be almost fatal to Lady Vincent, suffering as she must be 
the most extreme agony of suspense.” 

“ I see ! I see ! Poor Claudia ! she must be my only thought ! 
I must leave the smuggler to the justice of Heaven. But it 
is a sacrifice, Ishmael.” 

“A necessary one, sir; but there is still another that you 
must make in order to hasten to the rescue of Lady Vincent.” 

“ And that?” 

“Is the sacrifice of a large sum of money. A large sum, 
even for a man of fortune like yourself, judge.” 

“ And that fortune is not nearly so considerable as it is sup- 
posed to be, Ishmael. When I had paid over my daughter’s 
dower, I left myself but a moderate independence.” 

“Nevertheless, judge, if it should take the whole of your 
funded property, you will gladly devote it to the vindication of 
your daughter’s honor. We must be in England with our wit- 
nesses in time to arrest Lord Vincent and his accomplices be- 
fore he has an opportunity of bringing on the divorce suit.” 


298 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

Certainly.” 

“ To do this you will have to expend a large sum of money in 
the repurchasing of the negroes; for you must be aware that 
their present owners, having bought them in good faith, will 
not relinquish them without a struggle, which would involve 
you in a long lawsuit, the issue of which would be very doubt- 
ful; for you must be aware that there are many knotty points 
in this case. Now, I put the question to you, whether you can, 
with safety to Lady Vincent, remain here for weeks or months, 
either as prosecutor in the criminal trial of the smugglers or as 
plaintiff in a civil suit with the purchasers of Lady Vincentes 
servants ? ” 

“ I cannot.” 

“ Then do not attempt either to punish the kidnapers or 
wrest the slaves from the hands of their present owners. Our 
plan will be simply this: Take the consul with us to identify 
us, go to these owners, explain the facts, and offer to repurchase 
the negroes at once. They will, no doubt, gladly come to terms, 
rather than risk a lawsuit in which they would probably lose 
their purchase-money.” 

I see. Yes, Ishmael. You are wise and right, as you al- 
ways are,” said the judge, with an air of conviction. 

^^All this business may be arranged in time for us to take 
passage on the ‘ Cadiz,’ that sails on Saturday. Now, here we 
are at the consul’s office,” said Ishmael, as the carriage stopped 
at the door of the American consulate. 

Leaving Katie in the carriage they alighted and entered. The 
consul was engaged, so that they were detained in the anteroom 
nearly half an hour ; at the end of which four or five gentlemen 
were seen to issue from the inner room, and then the door- 
keeper, with a bow, invited Judge Merlin’s party to pass in. 

Philip Tourneysee, the American consul for Havana at that 
time, was the eldest son of that General Tourneysee whom the 
reader has already met at the house of Judge Merlin in Wash- 
ington. He had sought his present appointment because a 
residence in the West Indies had been recommended for his 
health. He was a slight, elegant, refined-looking man, with a 
clear complexion, bright auburn hair, and dark hazel eyes. The 
fine expression of his countenance alone redeemed it from 
effeminacy. 

On seeing Judge Merlin enter with his party he arose smil- 
ingly to receive them. 


299 


ON THE viscount’s TEACK. 

‘‘You are surprised to see me here again so soon, Philip,” 
said the judge, as he seated himself in the chair placed for him 
by the consul. 

“I cannot see you too often, judge,” was the courteous 
answer. 

“Hem! This is my friend, Mr. Worth, of the Washington 

bar. Mr. Worth, Mr. Tournej’^see, our consul for the port of 
Havana,” said the judge, with all his old-fashioned formality. 

The gentlemen thus introduced bowed, and the consul offered 
a chair to his second visitor and then seated himself and looked 
attentive. 

“We have come about the most awkward business that ever 
was taken in hand,” said the judge; “ the strangest and most in- 
famous, also, that ever came before a criminal tribunal. But 
let that pass. What would you say, for instance, to the fact of an 
English nobleman turning slave-trader — and not only slave- 
trader, but slave-stealer ? ” 

The consul looked perplexed and incredulous. 

“ I will tell you all about it,” said the judge, who immediately 
commenced and related to the astonished consul the history of 
the abduction and sale of the three negroes by Lord Vincent, 
and their subsequent transportation to Cuba and second sale 
at Havana by the smugglers. 

“ You will, of course, cause instant search to be made for the 
guilty parties, and I will certainly give you every, assistance 
in my power, both in my public capacity and as your private 
friend. We will go to work at once,” said the consul warmly, 
placing his hand upon the bell. 

“Ho,” said the judge, arresting his motion. “I have con- 
sulted with my friend and counsel, Mr. Worth, and we have 
decided that the smugglers, who are, after all, but the subordi- 
nates in this guilty confederacy, must go unpursued and unpun- 
ished for the present.” 

“ How ? ” inquired the consul, turning to Ishmael, as if he 
doubted his own ears. 

“Yes, sir,” said Ishmael calmly, “circumstances into which 
it is not necessary that we should now enter, render it abso- 
lutely necessary that we should be in England as soon as possi- 
ble. It is equally necessary that we should take the negroes with 

us, not only as witnesses against their first abductor as to the 
fact of the abduction, but also as to other transactions of which 
they were cognizant previous to that event. We must therefore 


300 self-eaised; ok, fkom the depths. 

avoid lawsuits which would be likely to detain us here. We 
cannot delay our departure either to prosecute the smugglers 
foQ* kidnaping, or to sue the purchasers for the recovery of 
the negroes. We must leave the smugglers to the retribu- 
tion of Providence, and we must pay the purchasers for the 
negroes we wish to carry away with us. What, therefore, we 
would ask of, your kindness is this — that you will go with us 
to the purchasers of these negroes and identify us, so as to 
smooth the way for a negotiation of our difficulties.” 

“ Certainly, certainly. Let me see. I have an appointment 
here at two o’clock, but at three I will join you at any place 
you may name.” 

“ Would our hotel be a convenient rendezvous for you? ” 

« Perfectly.” 

Then we will detain you no longer,” said Ishmael, rising. 

The judge followed his example. 

And both gentlemen shook hands with the consul and de- 
parted. 

“ I think,” said Ishmael, as they took their seats in the car- 
riage, ^Hhat we should take Katie immediately back to her 
owner. I understand from her that he is a man in the humbler 
walks of life, and therefore I think that he might be willing 
to dose with us for a liberal advance upon the price paid the 
smuggler.” 

“ Do so, if you please, Ishmael ; I trust entirely to your dis- 
cretion,” answered the judge. 

“Katie,” said Ishmael to the old woman, who had never 
left the carriage, “can you direct us the way to find the man 
who bought you ? ” 

“Kot to save my precious life, couldn’t I, honey. Because 
you see, I nebber can t’ink o’ de barbareous names dey has to de 
streets in dis outlan’ish place. But I knows where I is well 
’nough. An’ I knows where it is — de shop, I mean. And so 
if you’ll put me up alongside ob de driver I can point him which 
way to go an’ \vhere to stop,” said Katie. 

This proposition was agreed to. The carriage was stopped 
and Katie was let out and enthroned upon the seat beside the 
coachman, a Spaniard, whom she proceeded to direct more 
by signs and gestures than by words. , 

Aiter a very circuitous route through the city they turned 
into a narrow street and stopped before a house partly con- 
fectionery and partly tobacco shop. 


ON THE viscount’s TRACK. 301 

They alighted and went in, and found the proprietor doing 
duty behind his counter. 

The study of the Spanish language had been one of the few 
recreations Ishmael had allowed himself in his self-denying 
youth. He h^d afterwards improved his opportunities by 
speaking the language with such Spaniards as he met in so- 
ciety in Washington. He therefore now addressed the tobac- 
conist in that tongue, and proceeded to explain the business 
that brought himself and his friend to the shop. 

The tobacconist, who was the ordinary, small, lean, yellow 
specimen of the middle class of Cubans, courteously invited the 

senors ” into the back parlor, where they all seated themselves 
and entered more fully into the subject, Ishmael acting as in- 
terpreter between the judge and the tobacconist, whose name 
they discovered to be Marinello. 

Marinello expressed himself very much shocked to find that 
his purchase of the woman was illegal, if not positively fe- 
lonious; and that an appeal to the law would probably deprive 
him of his bargain, and possibly criminate him as the accom- 
plice of the slave stealer. 

He said that he had given eight hundred dollars for the 
woman Katie, who had been extolled by the trader as a most 
extraordinary cook. And a “most extraordinary” one, he de- 
clared, he found her to be, for she did not appear to know beef 
from mutton or rice from coffee. And in fact she was good for 
nothing; for even if he sent her on an errand, as on this occa- 
sion, she would stay forever and one day after, and charge her 
sloth upon her infirmities. She had been a bitter bargain to 
him. 

Judge Merlin smiled; he knew Katie to be one of the best 
cooks in this world and to be in the enjoyment of perfect health, 
and so he supposed that the cunning old woman had taken a 
lesson from the sailor’s monkey, who could talk, but wouldn’t, 
for fear he should be made to work. And that she had feigned 
her -ignorance and ill health to escape hard labo^ for one who 
she knew could have no just claim to her services. 

Ishmael, speaking for Judge Merlin, now explained to the 
tobacconist that this woman Katie had been a great favorite 
with the mistress from w'hom she was stolen; that they were 
on their way to see that lady; that they wished to take the 
woman with them; that they would rather repurchase her than 
lose time by suing to recover her; and finally, that they were 


302 


self-eaised; oe, from the depths. 

willing to give him back the money that he had paid for Katie, 
provided that he would deliver her up to them at once. 

Marinello immediately came to terms and agreed to all they 
proposed. He accompanied them back to the hotel, where he 
received eight hundred dollars and left Katie. 

“ That is a feat accomplished,’ ” said Ishmael gayly, as he 
returned to Judge Merlin’s room, after seeing Marinello out; 
‘‘ and now we may expect Mr. Tourneysee every moment.” 

And in fact while he spoke the door was opened and Mr. 
Tourneysee was announced. 

I am up to time,” he said, smiling, as he entered. 

“With dramatic punctuality,” said Ishmael, pointing to the 
clock on the mantel-piece, which was upon the stroke of three. 

“Yes,” said the consul, smiling. 

“We have done a good stroke of business since we left you. 
We have bought Katie back from her new master at the same 
price he gave for her, and he was very glad to get out of the 
affair so happily,” said Ishmael. 

“ Ah ! that was prompt indeed. I wish you equal good speed 
with the other purchasers of stolen slaves. By the way, where 
do we go first ? ” 

“ I think we had best call on the lady who bought the* girl 
Sally; from her — Sally, I mean — ^we might learn the name 
and residence of the gentleman who bought Jim, and of which 
we are at present in ignorance.” 

“ Who is the lady, and where does she live ? ” 

“We do not know her name either; Katie could not tell us; 
but she lives in the city, and Katie can direct the coachman 
where to drive. And now as the carriage is at the door, I 
think we had better start at once.” 

“I think so, too,” said the judge. 

And accordingly the whole party went downstairs and re-en- 
tered the carriage, vcdth the exception of Katie, who again 
mounted the box beside the driver for the purpose of directing 
him. 

Katie, who could not, if it were to save her life, remember the 
name of any place or person in that “ barbareous ” land, as she 
called it, yet iwssessed the canine memory of localities; so 
she directed the coachman through the shortest cut of the city 
towards the beautiful suburb Guadaloupe, and then to an ele- 
gant mansion of white granite, standing within its own luxu- 
riant grounds. 


303 


ON THE viscount’s TRACK. 

On seeing the carriage draw np and stop before the gate of 
this aristocratic residence, the young consul suddenly changed 
color and said: * 

“ This is the palace of the Senora Donna Eleanora Pacheco, 
Countess de la Santa Cruz.” 

“You know this lady ? ” inquired the judge. 

Mr. Tourneysee bowed. 

The porter threw open the great gate, and the carriage rolled 
along a lovely shaded avenue, up before the white marble fa- 
cade of the palace, where it stopped. 

“ If you please, I will send your cards in with my own. As 
I am known to the senora, it may insure you a speedier 
audience.” 

“We thank you very much,” said Ishmael, placing his own 
and the judge’s cards in the hands of the consul, who alighted, 
went up the marble steps to the front door, and rang. 

A footman opened the door, took in the cards, and after a few 
moments returned. 

“ The countess will see the sehors,” was the message that the 
consul smilingly brought back to his friends in the carriage. 

Then all alighted and went into the house. 

The same footman, a jet black young negro, in gorgeous 
livery of purple and gold, led them into a small, elegantly fur- 
nished reception room, where, seated on a sofa, and toying with 
a fan, was one of the loveliest little dark-eyed creoles that ever 
was seen. 

She did not rise, but extended her hand with a graceful gest- 
ure and gracious smile to welcome her visitors. 

Tourneysee advanced, with a deep and reverential bow, that 
would have done honor to the gravest and most courteous hi- 
dalgo of that grave and courteous people. 

“ Senora,” he said, with great formality, “ I have the honor 
to present to your ladyship Chief Justice Merlin, of the United 
States Supreme Court. Judge Merlin, the Countess de la 
Santa Cruz.” 

The judge made a profound bow, which the lady acknowledged 
by a gracious bend of the head. 

With the same serious and stately formality, which was cer- 
tainly not natural to the young Marylander, but which was 
assumed in deference to the grave character of Spanish eti- 
quette, Mr. Tourneysee next presented: 

“Mr. Worth, of the Washington bar.” 


304 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

The low obeisance of this visitor was received with even a 
more gracious smile than had been vouchsafed to that of the 
judge. 

When they were seated, in accordance with the lady’s invi- 
tation, the conversation turned upon the ordinary topics of the 
day: the weather; the opera; the last drawing room at the 
Government Palace; the new Captain General and his beauti- 
ful bride, etc., etc., etc. 

The judge fidgeted; Ishmael was impatient; the consul per- 
plexed. It was necessary to speak of the affair that brought 
them there. Yet how was it possible without offense to intro- 
duce any topic of business in that bower of beauty, to that indo- 
lent Venus, whose only occupation was to toy with her fan; 
whose only conversation was of sunshine, flowers, music, balls, 
and brides? 

Clearly neither the judge nor the consul had the courage to 
obtrude any serious subject upon her. The disagreeable task 
was at length assumed by Ishmael, who never permitted himr 
self to shrink from a duty merely because it was an unpleasant 
one. 

Taking advantage, therefore, of a break in the conversation, 
he turned to the lady and, speaking with grave courtesy, said: 

“ Will the senora pardon me for beseeching her attention to 
an affair of great moment which has brought us to her pres- 
ence ? ” 

The “ senora ” lifted her long, curled lashes until they touched 
her brows, and opened wide her large, soft, dark eyes in childish 
wonder. An affair of great moment ! ” What could it be ? 
A masked ball? a parlor concert? private theatricals? a — ^what? 
She could not imagine. Dropping her eyelids demurely, she 
answered softly: 

“Proceed, senor. 

Ishmael then briefly explained to her the business upon 
which they had come. 

The senora was as sensible as she was beautiful, and as 
benevolent as she was sensible. She listened to the story of the 
negroes’ abduction with as much sympathy as curiosity, and 
at the end of the narrative she exclaimed: 

“ What villains there are in this world ! ” 

Ishmael then delicately referred to their wish to purchase the 
girl Sally. 

The senora promptly assented to the implied desire. 


ON THE viscount’s teack. 305 

“It was my steward, Miguel Manello, who bought her for 
me. I did not particularly want her. And I find her of very 
little use to me. She cannot understand one word that is said 
to her. And she does nothing from morning until night but 
weep, weep, weep tears enough to float away the house.” 

“ Poor girl ! ” muttered Ishmael. 

“ So if the senor wishes to recover her he can take her now, 
or at any time.” 

Ishmael delicately hinted at the purchase money. 

“ Oh, I know nothing about such matters. I will send my 
steward to wait on the senpr at his hotel this evening. The 
senor can then arrange thT^ t 'tter with him.” 

Ishmael expressed his thai \i:^ arose, and bowed as if to take 
leave. But the lady waved her hand, and said in a sweet but 
peremptory manner: 

“ Be seated, senor.” 

With another inclination of the head, Ishmael resumed his 
seat. The lady rang a silver bell that stood on a stand at her 
right hand and brought to her presence the gorgeous, sable 
footman. 

“ Serve the senors with refreshments,” was the order given 
and promptly obeyed. 

An elegant little' repast was set before them, consisting of 
delicious coffee, chocolate, fresh fruits, cakes, and sweetmeats. 
And only when they had done full justice to these delicacies 
would their hostess permit them to retire. 

Again Ishmael bowed with profound deference, expressed his 
thanks on the part of himself and his friends, and finally took 
leave. 

On going from the room they noticed a person, who, from 
the extreme quietness of her manner, had escaped their obser- 
vation until this moment. She was a woman of about sixty 
years of age, clad in the habit of a lay-sister of the Benedictine 
Order, and seated within a curtained recess, and engaged in 
reading her “ office.” , She was probably doing duty as duenna 
to the beautiful widow. 


306 


self-raised; or, from the depths. 


CHAPTER XXXVIL 

STILL ON THE TRACK. 

One sole desire, one passion now remains, 

To keep life’s fever still within his veins, — 

Vengeance! Dire vengeance on the wretch who cast 
On him and all he loved that ruinous blast. 

— Moore. 

Our party drove back to the hotel to await the coming of the 
steward with Sally. Mr. Brudenell had not yet returned. 

Ishmael sent for the clerk of the house and bespoke proper 
accommodations for the servants. 

But Katie rebelled, and protested that she would not leave 
her old master until bedtime, when she should insist upon his 
locking her in her bedroom and taking charge of the key, for 
fear she should be bewitched and stolen again. 

At about six o’clock Miguel Manello arrived, having Sally in 
charge. According to instructions left with the waiters they 
were immediately shown up to the apartments of Judge 
Merlin. 

Miguel Manello, a little, dried-up, mahogany-colored old 
man with blue-gray hair, came in, bowing profoundly. 

Sally followed him, but suddenly stopped, opened her mouth 
and eyes as wide as they could be extended, and stood dumb 
with astonishment. 

As she could not speak a word of Spanish, nor the steward of 
English, she could not be made to understand where he was 
bringing her. So she had not the remotest suspicion that she 
was approaching her master until she actually stood in his 
presence. Astonishment makes people break into exclamations ; 
but Sally it always struck speechless. So it had been with her 
when the viscount and his accomplices entered her room that 
night of the abduction. So it was with her now that she was 
brought unexpectedly to the presence of the beloved old master 
whom she had never hoped to see again on this side of the 
grave. 

How long she might have remained standing there, dum- 
founded, had she not been interrupted, is not known; for old 
Katie made a dash forward, caught her in an embrace, kissed 
her, burst into tears, and said: 

Oh, Sally, it is all come right ! Ole marster done come hero 


STILL ON THE TRACK. 


307 


and lie gwine to buy us all back and take us to my ladyship, and 
we gwine be witness ag’in my lordship and de sham-vally — 
which I hopes dey’ll be hung, and likewise de whited saltpeter 
as is de wuss ob de t’ree ! ” 

The tears began to steal down poor Sally’s cheeks and she 
looked appealingly from old Katie to Judge Merlin and Ishmael, 
as if to entreat confirmation of the good news. 

“ It is all quite true, Sally. You are to return to England 
with us, and then, I hope, we shall all come back to old Mary- 
land, never to leave it again,” said Ishmael. 

“ Oh, Marse Ishmael, dat would be like coming out’n pur- 
gatory into heaben ! Thank de Lord ! ” fervently exclaimed the 
girl, while tears — tears of joy — now streamed down her cheeks. 

“ There, now, Sally ; go with your aunty into the next room, 
and have a glorious old talk, while we settle some business with 
the steward,” said Ishmael, pointing to the door of the ante- 
room. 

When they had retired he beckoned the steward to approach. 
Miguel Manello advanced with a series of genuflexions, and 
laid upon the table a document which proved to be a bill of 
sale for the girl, Sally. 

“ The senor will perceive,” he said, that I paid the trader 
twelve hundred dollars for the negress. My mistress, the 
Senora Donna Eleanora Pacheco, has instructed me to deliver 
the girl up to the senor at his own price. But the senor will 
not, perhaps, object to paying the same sum I paid for the girl.” 

“ Certainly not,” answered Ishmael. 

Judge Merlin produced the money, and the sale was imme- 
diately effected. The steward took up his hat to depart, but 
Ishmael made a sign for him to stop. 

“ You were present at the sale of this girl? ” 

Assuredly, senor ; since I purchased her.” 

There was an old woman sold at the same time ? ” 

“Yes, senor; the one that I found in here.” 

“ Exactly. There was also a young man ? ” 

“Yes, senor.” 

“ Can you tell me who became his purchaser ? ” 

“ Certainly, senor. He was bought by the Senor Don Eilipo 
Martinez, who lives in the Suburb Regia.” 

“ Can you give me directions how to find the place ? ” 

“Certainly, senor. I v/ill write it down, if the senor will 
permit me the use of his writing-case.” 


308 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

Ishmael placed a chair at the table, and signed for the stew- 
ard to take it. Miguel Manello sat down, wrote out the direc- 
tions, handed them to Ishmael, and then with a deep bow took 
his leave. 

When they were alone Ishmael said : 

“ The Suburb Regia is on the other side of the harbor. We 
cannot with propriety visit it this evening. In the morning 
we will set out early. We must either make a long circuit by 
land, or else take the shorter cut across the harbor. I think 
the last mentioned the best plan.’^ 

“ I agree with you,” said the judge; but I fear we are greatly 
trespassing on the time and the official duties of our friend,” he 
added, turning with a smile to the consul. 

Oh, not at all ! I am sufficiently attentive to my business 
to afford to take a day now and then, when necessity demands 
it,” replied Mr. Toumeysee pleasantly, as he arose and bid his 
friends good-evening. 

He had scarcely left the scene when the door opened and 
the truant, Herman Brudenell, entered. 

You are a pretty fellow to back your friends. Here we have 
been overwhelpied with business and beset with adventures, 
and you gone!” exclaimed the judge, whose spirits were much 
elated with the successes of the day. “ Give an account of 
yourself, sir ! ” he added. 

^‘Well,” said Mr. Brudenell, throwing himself into a chair 
and setting his hat upon the table with a wearied, but cheerful 
air, “I have been walking around the city to see all that was 
interesting in it. I visited the cathedral, where the ashes of 
Columbus repose; saw the Government Palace; the Admiralty; 
the Royal Tobacco Factory; several interesting old churches, 
and so forth. Last of all, I ran up against a very dear friend 
of mine, whose acquaintance I made at the court of Queen Isa- 
bella when I was at Madrid, some years ago. And Don Filipo 
insisted on my returning home with him to the Suburb Regia, 
where he has a beautiful house standing in the midst of 
equally beautiful grounds. Well, I dined there; and I got away 
as soon after dinner as I decently could.” 

“^Don Filipo? Suburb Regia?’” repeated Judge Merlin, as 
his thoughts ran upon the purchaser of the negro boy Jim. 

Yes. Do you know him ? Sefior Don Filipo Martinez ” 

“Ho, not personally; we have heard of him, though. Sit 
still, Brudenell, I have got something to tell you. We have 


STILL ON THE TRACK. 309 

met some old acquaintances also since you left us,” said the 
judge. 

“ Ah, who are they ? The Toumeysees, I presume.” 

^‘We have met the Toumeysees of course; but we have met 
others.” 

“ Then you will have to tell me, judge, for I should never 
be able to guess among your thousands of friends and acquaint- 
ances who were the individuals encountered here.” 

What would you say to me if I should tell you that Ishmael 
met our old Katie in the street and brought her hither ? ” 

‘‘ I should say that you or I were mad or dreaming,” said 
Mr. Bmdenell, staring at the judge. 

“ And yet I tell you the sober truth. That infamous villain, 
Malcolm, Lord Vincent, taking advantage of the opportunities 
afforded by his residence on a remote part of the sea coast, 
and his connection with a crew of smugglers, actually suc- 
ceeded in kidnaping Lady Vincent’s three servants and selling 
them to the trader, who brought them to this island and sold 
them again.” 

“ Am I awake ? ” exclaimed Mr. Brudenell, in amazement. 

“ As much as any of us, I suppose. There are times when 
I fancy myself in a strange dream.” 

“ What could have been the man’s motive for such a 
crime ? ” 

^‘Partly, no doubt, cupidity; for he is as mean as marsh 
mud! partly revenge; for he hates these negroes for their de- 
votion to their mistress; but mostly caution; for one of these 
negroes became possessed of a secret compromising the reputa- 
tion, and even the personal liberty of the viscount.” 

“ Good Heavens ! I never heard of such a transaction in all 
my life. Do give me the particulars of this affair.” 

“ By and by. Just now I must tell you that, with the aid 
of our consul, who has just left us, we have ferreted out the pur- 
chasers of the negroes, and we have just repurchased two of 
them — old Katie and Sally ; who are at this present moment in 
the next room, enjoying their reunion.” 

But — ^why the deuce did you repurchase these negroes, when 
by appealing to the law, and proving their felonious abduction 
and illegal sale, you might have recovered possession of them 
without paying a dollar?” 

“Yes, I might; but then again I mightn’t, as the children 
say. In the first impetuosity of my anger, at discovering these 


310 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

crimes, I would have instantly sued for the recovery of the 
negroes, and sought out and prosecuted the traders, had it not 
been for Ishmael. God bless that young man, how much I owe 
him! He interposed his warning voice and wise counsels. He 
indicated several questionable features in the case, that would 
make the issue of any lawsuit that I might bring for the re- 
covery of the negroes very uncertain. He reminded me that 
if I involved myself in any lawsuit, either civil or criminal, it 
would detain me on the island for weeks or months, while it is 
of the utmost importance that I should be at the side of my in- 
jured child. I could but acknowledge the truth and justice of 
his argument, and therefore I have, at some sacrifice of money 
and temper, repurchased the negroes.” 

“And looking at the affair from IshmaePs point of view, I 
think you have done quite right, sir,” said Mr. Brudenell. 

“ And there is another consideration,” put in Ishmael. 
“ Judge Merlin mentioned to you, as one of the motives that 
instigated Vincent to the perpetration of the crime, the fear of 
the negroes, who had become possessed of a secret involving 
the liberty of the viscount. This secret was neither more nor 
less than the knowledge of a conspiracy formed by the viscount 
and two of his accomplices against the honor of Lady Vincent. 
Thus, you see, it is absolutely necessary that these negroes 
should be taken to England without delay as witnesses ” 

“ In the divorce trial, certainly.” 

“Ho; not in the divorce trial; though their testimony in 
such a trial would be conclusive for the lady. But we wish, if 
possible, to prevent the divorce trial. We will not have the 
daughter of Randolph Merlin assailed in such unseemly man- 
ner. Ho woman, however innocent she may be, comes out un- 
scarred from such a struggle; for the simple reason that the 
bare fact of such a suit having brought against her attaches a 
life-long reproach to her.” 

“ There is truth in what you say, Ishmael, but I do not see 
how the trial is to be avoided, since Lord Vincent is determined 
to sue for a dissolution of his marriage.” 

“ In this way, sir. By placing Lord Vincent hors-du-combat 
at the very onset. When we reach Edinboro’ our first visit will 
be to a magistrate’s office, where we will lodge information and 
cause warrants to be issued for the arrest of Lord Vincent and 
his accomplices upon the charge of conspiracy and kidnaping. 
Do. you suppose that Lord Vincent, lodged in jail and awaiting 


STILL ON THE TRACK. 311 

his trial for abduction and conspiracy, will be in a condition to 
prosecute bis suit for divorce ? ” 

Certainly not. I see that you are right, Isbmael. But poor 
Claudia! In any case, how she must suffer.” 

“ Heaven comfort her ! Yes. But we chose the least of two 
evils for her. Delivered from the fiend who has tormented her 
for so long a time, and restored to her native country and to 
the bosom of her family, we will hope that Lady Vincentes 
youth will enable her to rally from the depressing influences of 
these early troubles, and that she will yet regain her peace and 
cheerfulness.” 

“ Heaven grant it. Heaven grant it ! ” said the judge fer- 
vently. “ Oh, Ishmael,” he continued, “ when I think that I 
shall have my child back again, I almost feel reconciled to the 
storm of sorrow that must drive her for shelter into my arms. 
Is that selfish? I do not know. But I do know that I shall 
love her more, indulge her more than I ever did before. She 
must, she shall be, satisfied and happy with me.” 

Ishmael pressed his hand in silent sympathy, and then to di- 
vert his thoughts from a subject fraught with so much emotion 
he said: 

“ It occurs to me, judge, to say that Mr. Brudenell will proba- 
bly be able very much to facilitate our negotiations with his 
friend, Don Filipo.” 

“ Yes, I should think he would,” replied the judge, with diffi- 
culty tearing his thoughts from the image of his daughter re- 
stored to his home, sitting by his fireside, or at the head of the 
table; “yes, I should think Brudenell would be able to smooth 
our way in that quarter.” 

“What is that, Ishmael? What are you both talking of in 
connection with myself and friend ? ” demanded Mr. Brudenell. 

“ Why, sir, your friend, Senor Don Filipo Martinez, is just 
precisely the same gentleman who became the purchaser of the 
boy Jim. We intend to pay him a visit to-morrow, for the pur- 
pose of trying to repurchase the boy. It is rather a delicate 
matter to propose to a Spanish hidalgo; and therefore we feel 
very much pleased to find that he is a friend of yours, and we 
hope that your introduction will recommend us to a favorable 
hearing.” 

“ Certainly, I will go with you and introduce you. But I do 
not think your cause needs my advocacy; and I am very much 
mistaken in my estimation of Don Filipo^s character, if when 


312 selF'RAised; oe, from the depths. 

he has heard all the facts he does not at once deliver the negro 
boy into your hands and decline to accept any payment.” 

“ But to that I would never consent,” said the judge. 

“I do not see how you can help it, if you cannot get your 
witness on any other -terms. Don Filipo is a Spanish noble- 
man ; he has high ideas of honor. The manner in which he will 
look upon this affair will be probably this — ^he will see that he 
has been deceived into the purchase of stolen property, and 
into a sort of unconscious complicity with the thieves. He will 
drop the property ‘ like a hot potato,’ as the Irish say. In other 
words, he would consider his honor ineffaceably stained by 
either keeping the boy on the one hand or receiving any pay- 
ment on the other. Don Filipo would lose ten times the amount 
of the purchase money rather than suffer the shadow of a shade 
of reproach to rest for one instant on his ’scutcheon.” 

“ I think if it is as Mr. Brudenell says, judge, that you had 
better not make any difficulty about this ^ point of honor ’ with 
the Senor Don Filipo. Get the negro back on his own terms. 
Afterwards, when you reach England you can easily and deli- 
cately reihunerate him by sending him a complimentary pres- 
ent of equal or greater value than the purchase money he re- 
fuses, supposing that he does refuse it,” said Ishmael. 

“He will refuse it,” persisted Mr. Brudenell. 

“ That will do, Ishmael. You have shown me a way out of 
this difficulty. And now suppose we ring for supper? We have 
had nothing since breakfast except the light repast set before 
us by the Senora Donna — et cetera.” 

Ishmael touched the bell, which brought up a waiter. Judge 
Merlin ordered supper to be served immediately. When it was 
ready he called in Katie and Sally to wait on the table — to re- 
mind him of old times, he said. 

After supper he sent for the housekeeper and gave his two 
female servants into her charge, requesting her to see that 
their wants were supplied. And Katie, now that she had Sally 
with her, went away willing enough without insisting on being 
locked in her bedchamber for safe-keeping. And soon after this 
our wearied party separated and retired to rest. 

The next morning, directly after an early breakfast, they set 
off for the Suburb Regia, calling on their way at the office of the 
consul, to discharge that gentleman from the duty of accom- 
panying them; a measure now rendered unnecessary’ by the pres- 
ence of Mr. Brudenell, and the fact of the latter being an inti- 


STILL ON THE TKACK. 313 

mate friend of Don Filipo, and therefore quite competent to 
indorse these strangers. 

Mr. Toumeysee was excessively busy, and was very glad to 
be released from his promise to attend his friends. He gave 
them, however, his best wishes for their success, bid them 
adieu, and suffered them to depart. 

It was about eleven o’clock in the forenoon when they 
reached the residence of Don Filipo. It was an imposing edi- 
fice, built of white granite, and standing within its own spa- 
cious grounds. A broad avenue, paved with granite, and shaded 
with tropical trees, led up to the front of the house. 

Arrived here, Mr. Brudenell alighted from his carriage, rang 
the doorbell, and sent in the cards of his party with his own. 
In a few minutes they were admitted by a mulatto footman, 
in rich though plain livery, whc conducted them to a handsome 
library, where Don Filipo stood ready to receive them. 

The Senor Don Filipo Martinez, Marquis de la Santo Es- 
pirito, was not a creole. That any spectator might know at a 
glance. He was, as has been said, a Spanish hidalgo, of the 
glorious old Castilian order. He had been born and brought 
up near the Court of Madrid; he had graced an enviable posi- 
tion about the person of his sovereign; and lately, he had been 
sent out to fill a responsible ofiice in the government of the 
island. He was even now talked of as the next Captain General. 

He was a very distinguished-looking man, somewhat past 
middle age, with a tall, finely proportioned though very spare 
form ; a long, thin face, Koman nose, piercing black eyes, heavy 
black eyebrows, olive complexion, and iron-gray hair and beard. 

He advanced with grave and stately courtesy to welcome his 
visitors, whom Mr. Brudenell presented in due order. 

When they were all seated, Mr. Brudenell undertook at once 
to introduce the subject of the business upon which they had 
come. 

Don Filipo gave the speaker his most serious attention, and 
heard the narrative with surprise and mortification, somewhat 
modified by his habitual and dignified self-restraint. 

At its conclusion, he turned to Judge Merlin, and said: 

I am deeply grieved, senor, in having done you, however un- 
consciously, so great a wrong. I must pray you to accept my 
apologies, and the only atonement I can make you — the resti- 
tution of your slave.” 

“ Sir, I am pained that you should accuse yourself so un- 


314 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

justly; I cannot feel that you have done me any wrong, or owe 
me any apology, or restitution. I shall be very glad to get the 
boy back; and I thank you heartily for your willingness to 
give him up. But I am quite willing and ready to refund to 
you the purchase moijey paid for him,” said Judge Merlin. 

Sehor, it is impossible for me to receive it,” answered Don 
Pilipo gravely. 

But, sir, I cannot think of permitting you to be the loser 
by this transaction. I really must insist upon you accepting 
the purchase money.” 

“ Senor, it is impossible for me to do so,” very gravely re- 
plied Don Filipo. 

“But, my dear sir, pray reflect. You have actually disbursed 
e.y large sum of money in the purchase of this boy. I do but 
offer you your own. I pray you accept it.” 

“ It is impossible, senor,” very, very gravely replied the 
Spaniard. 

And at that moment Judge Merlin caught the eye of Ishmael 
fixed upon him with an anxious gaze. This gaze caused J udge 
Merlin to glance up at the face of his interlocutor. 

The countenance of Don Filipo had assumed a severe and 
haughty aspect, although his words and tones were still cour- 
teous and gentle, as he repeated : 

“It is impossible, seiior.” 

And then Judge Merlin seemed to understand that to con- 
tinue to press money upon this proud old Castilian nobleman 
would be simply to insult him. 

With a deep bow, he said: 

“ I yield the point to you, Senor Don Filipo. And must re- 
main your debtor for this great favor.” 

The stem face of the old Castilian melted into a fascinating 
smile, as he offered his hand to the judge, and said courteously : 

“ I esteem myself happy in being able to restore to the senor 
his slave. The boy is absent now exercising my favorite saddle 
horse; but as soon as he returns he shall be sent to the 
senor.” 

Our party then arose to depart; but Don Filipo would not 
allow them to go before they had partaken of a tempting repast 
of cakes, fruits, sweetmeats, and wine. 

Then, with a real regret at parting with this “fine old 
Spanish gentleman,” they took leave and returned to their 
hotel. 


STILL ON THE TRACK. 


315 

In the course of the afternoon Jim arrived in the custody of 
Don Filipo’s steward, and was regularly delivered over to the 
safe-keeping of Judge Merlin. 

The meeting of poor Jim with his old master and friends, 
and with his mother and his sweetheart, was at once so touch- 
ing and so absurd, that it inclined the spectator at the same time 
to tears and laughter. 

“ FTow,” said Judge Merlin, as they sat together in his rooms 
that evening, “ our work is over. And this is Tuesday evening, 
and we cannot sail until Saturday morning! What the deuce 
shall we do with the three intervening days ? ” 

“ To-morrow,” answered Ishmael, “ we had better see to pro- 
viding ourselves with an outfit for the voyage. Eemember that 
since our wardrobe was lost on the ‘ Oceana,’ we have had noth- 
ing but the single change provided us by the captain of the 
‘ Santiago.’ ” 

“ True, we must have an outfit. The purchase of that will 
occupy one day ; but there will be still two left to dispose of.” 

On Thursday we^ can spend the morning in seeing whatever 
is interesting in the city and its suburbs, and in the evening 
you know we are engaged to dine with Mr. Toumeysee.” 

“Exactly! But what shall we do on Friday?” 

“ Continue our sight-seeing through the city in the morn- 
ing, and have Mr. Toumeysee and the Senor Don ” 

“Et cetera, to dine with us in the evening. Is that what 
you mean, Ishmael ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ That will do then. Mow we will go to bed,” said the judge, 
rising and taking his bedroom candle. 

And that was the signal for the party to disperse and go to 
rest. 

The remainder of the week was passed in the manner sketched 
out by Ishmael. Mevertheless the three days of waiting seemed 
to the anxious father of Claudia three years in length. On 
Saturday morning our whole party, consisting now of three 
gentlemen and four servants, embarked on the “ Cadiz ” for 
Europe. 

Mr. Toumeysee and Don Filipo “Et cetera,” as the judge 
called him, accompanied them to the steamer, and remained 
with them to the latest possible moment. Then with many 
fervent wishes for their prosperity in the voyage, the two gen- 
tlemen took leave of our party and went on shore. The steamer 


816 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

sailed at nine o’clock. When it was well under way Ishmael 
looked around among his fellow-passengers, and was pleased 
to recognize many of the companions of his disastrous voyage 
on the “ Oceana.” Among the others was the family of Dr. 
Kerr. Later in the day, as Ishmael and his shadow, the pro- 
fessor, were standing leaning over the bulwarks of the ship 
and watching the setting sun sink into the water, leaving a 
trail of light upon the surface of the sea, he heard a familiar 
voice exclaim: 

‘‘Fader Abraham! Tere ish tat yunk shentleman ant hish 
olt man again ! ” 

And Ishmael turned and saw the German Jew standing near 
him. Ishmael smiled and held out his hand; and Isaacs came 
and grasped it, expressing his pleasure in having “ von drue 
shentleman” for his fellow-passenger once more. And from 
this day quite a friendship grew up between the young Christian 
and the old Jew. Without making the least effort to do so, 
Ishmael won his entire confidence. 

Isaacs, reserved and uncommunicative with everyone else, 
seemed to find pleasure in talking to Ishmael. 

Among other voluntary revelations, Isaacs informed Ishmael 
that he was going to England to see his niece, who was “ von 
gread laty.” She was the daughter, he said, of his only sister, 
who had been the wife of a rich English Jew. She had married 
an Englishman of high rank; but her husband, as well as her 
father and mother, was dead; all were dead; and she was 
living in widowhood and loneliness ; and, ah ! a great wrong had 
been done her! And here the Jew would sigh dismally and 
shake his head. 

Kow Ishmael, in the delicacy of his nature, would receive 
all the Jew’s voluntary communications and sympathize with 
all his complaints, without ever asking him a question. And 
thus, as the Jew never happened to mention the name of his 
niece, and Ishmael never inquired it, he remained in ignorance 
of it. 

The voyage of the “ Cadiz,” considering the season of the 
year, might be said to have been very prosperous. The weather 
continued clea^*, with a light wind from the northwest, alternat- 
ing with calms. Our party having served out their time at 
seasickness on the “ Oceana,” were not called to suffer any more 
from that "malady on this voyage. 

On the fourteenth day out they arrived at Cadiz, whence they 


CLAUDIA AT CAMERON COURT. 31^ 

took a steamer bound for Liverpool, where they landed on the 
first of February, late in the night. 

They went to a hotel to spend the remaining hours in sleep. 
And the next morning, after a hurried breakfast, eaten by can- 
dlelight, they took the express train for Edinboro’. 


CHAPTEK XXXVin. 


CLAUDIA AT CAMERON COURT. 

Sweet are the paths — oh, passing sweet, 

By Esk’s fair streams that run 

O’er airy steep, thro’ copsewood deep, 

Impervious to the sun. 

There the rapt poet’s step may rove, 

And yield the muse the day; 

There beauty led by timid love 
May shun the tell-tale ray. 

—Scott, 

Cameron Court, the favorite seat of Berenice, Countess of. 
Hurstmonceux, was situated about seven miles south of Edin- 
boro^ on the north banks of the Esk. It was an elegant modern 
edifice, raised upon the ruins of an ancient castle, overhanging 
a perpendicular precipice, with a sheer descent of several 
hundred feet" to the river. It looked down upon the course of 
the Esk, winding between rocks of lofty height, whose sides 
were fringed with a tangled mass of shrubs, ferns, and thistles, 
and whose summits were crowned with thickets of hazel, pine, 
and birch. On still higher ground, behind the house, and 
sheltering it from the northern blast, stood a thick wood of 
cedar, beech, and fir trees. Many winding footpaths led through 
this wood, and down the rocks and along the edge of the river. 
A wilder, more picturesque and romantic spot could scarcely 
have been found for a dwelling-place. 

In summer, green with foliage, bright with blooming flowers, 
and musical with singing birds and purling brooks, it was beau- 
tiful! But in winter, bound in ice, mantled with snow, and 
gemmed with frost, it was sublime! 

Such was the aspect of the place without; while within were 
collected all the comforts, luxuries, and elegances that wealth, 
taste, and intellect could command. 

Within a short distance of this charming residence stood 


318 8ELF-EAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

Craigmillar Castle, an old ruin, memorable from having been 
the first residence of Mary Queen of Scots after her return 
from France; and also her favorite retreat when driven to seek 
repose from the clashing antagonisms of her court at Holy- 
rood. 

Nearer still, on the banks of the Esk, stood Roslyn Castle 
and Chapel, famous in song and story for the lordly line of 
high St. Clair ” ; and Hawthornden, remarkable for its enormous 
artificial caves, hewn out of the solid foundation rocks, and 
used as a place of refuge during the barbarous wars of by-gone 
ages; and many other interesting monuments of history and 
tradition. 

To this attractive home Lady Hurstmonceux had brought 
Claudia late one winter afternoon. 

At that hour, between the thickness of the Scotch mist and 
the low, gathering shadows of the night, but little could be 
seen or surmised of the scenery surrounding the house. 

But Claudia keenly appreciated the comfort and elegance of 
the well-warmed and brightly lighted rooms within. 

Not that they were more luxurious or more splendid than 
those she had left forever behind at Castle Cragg, but they 
were — oh, so different! 

There all the magnificence was tainted with the presence of 
guilt; here all was pure with innocence. There she had been 

under the curse”; here she was “under the benediction.” 
There she had been tormented by a devil; here she was com- 
forted by an angel. And this is scarcely putting the compari- 
son, as it existed in her experience, too strongly. 

Even when she had been alone and unprotected at the hotel, 
she had experienced a rebound of spirits from long depression, 
a joyous sense of freedom — only from the single cause of getting 
away from Castle Cragg and its sinful inmates. But now, 
added to that were the pleasure of friendship, the comfort of 
sympathy, and security of protection. Belief, repose, satis- 
faction — these were the sensations of Claudia in taking up her 
temporary abode at Cameron Court. The very first evening 
seemed a festive one to her, who had been so lonely, so wretched, 
and so persecuted at Castle Cragg. 

The countess took her to a bright, cheerful suite of apart- 
ments on the second floor, whose French windows opened upon 
a balcony overlooking the wild and picturesque scenery of the 
Esk. 


CLAUDIA AT CAMERON COURT. 


819 


And when she had laid off her bonnet and wrappings her 
hostess took her down to a handsome dining room, where an ele- 
gant little dijiner for two was served. 

Ah ! very different was this from the horrible meals at Castle 
Cragg, or even from the lonely ones at Magruder’s Hotel. 

Berenice possessed the rare gift of fascination in a higher 
degree than any woman Claudia had ever chanced to meet. 
And she exerted herself to please her guest with such success 
that Claudia was completely charmed and won. 

After dinner they adjourned to a sumptuous apartment, 
called in the house “ my lady’s little drawing room.” Here 
everything was collected that could help to make a winter 
evening pass comfortably and pleasantly. 

The Turkey carpet that covered the floor was a perfect 
parterre of brilliant flowers wrought in their natural colors; 
and its texture was so fine and thick that it yielded like moss 
to the footstep. Crimson velvet curtains, lined with white satin 
and fringed with gold, draped the windows and excluded every 
breath of the wintry blast. Many costly pictures, rare works 
of art, covered the walls. A grand piano^forte, a fine harp, a 
guitar, and a lute were at hand. Rich inlaid tables were cov- 
ered with the best new books, magazines, and journals. Indian 
cabinets were filled with antique shells, minerals, ossifications, 
and other curiosities. Marble stands supported vases, statuettes, 
and other articles of vertu. Lastly, two soft, deep, easy-chairs 
were drawn up before the glowing fire; while over the mantel- 
piece a large cheval glass reflected and duplicated all this wealth 
of comfort. 

With almost motherly tenderness the beautiful countess 
placed her guest in one of these luxurious chairs and put a 
comfortable foot cushion under her feet. Then Berenice took 
the other chair. Between them, on a marble stand, stood a 
vase of flowers and the countess’ work-box. But she did not 
open it. She engaged her guest in conversation, and such was 
the charm of her manners that the evening passed like a 
pleasant dream. 

And when Claudia received the kiss of Berenice and retired 
for the night, it was with the sweet feeling of safety added 
to her sense of freedom. And when she awoke in the morning, 
it was to greet with joy her new life of sympathy, security, and 
repose. 

As soon as she rang her bell she was attended by a pretty 


320 SELF-RAISJ:© ; oe, from the depths. 

Scotch girl, who informed her that her ladyship’s luggage had 
arrived, and had been placed in the hall outside her apartments 
to await her ladyship’s orders. 

Claudia, when she was dressed, went to look after it and 
found, to her surprise, not only her large trunk from Magru- 
der’s, but also her numerous boxes from Castle Cragg. 

Upon inquiry she discovered that the boxes had been for- 
warded from the castle to the hotel, and sent on with the trunk. 

She did not stop to inspect any part of her luggage, but went 
downstairs into the breakfast parlor, where she found Lady 
Hurstmonceux presiding over the table, and waiting for her. 

Berenice arose and met her guest with an affectionate em- 
brace, and put her into the easiest chair nearest the fire; fo^ it 
was a bitter cold morning, and the snow lay thick upon the 
ground and upon the tops of the fir trees that stood before the 
windows, like footmen with powdered heads. 

On turning up her plate Claudia found a letter. 

“It is from Jean Murdock, dear. Read it; it refers no doubt 
to the boxes she has forwarded,” said Lady Hurstmonceux. 

Claudia smiled, bowed, broke the seal, and read as follows : 

“ Castle Cragg, Thursday Morning. 

“Me Leddy: I hae the honor to forward your leddyship’s 
boxes fra the castle. I hope your leddyship will find a’ richt. 
There hae been unco ill doings here sin your leddyship left. 
Me laird hae gane his ways up to Lunnun; but hae left the 
player bodie. Quid forgie him, biding her lane here. And she 
has guided us a’ a sair gate sin’ she hae held the reins. Auld 
Cuthbert wouldna bide here longer gin it wer’ na for the luve 
o’ the house; na mare would I. I must tell your leddyship 
about the visit of the poleece, whilk I understand were sent 
by your leddyship’s ain sel’. They cam’ the same day your 
leddyship left. Me laird was going away; and me laird’s car- 
riage stood at the door; and just as he was stepping into the 
carriage they cam’ up and spake till him. And then his laird- 
ship laughed, and invited them to enter the house, and walk into 
the library. And he sent Auld Cuthbert to fetch me. And 
when I went into the library, his lairdship said till me: 

“ ^ Murdock, these people have come about some gorillas that 
are said to be missing. What about them ? ’ 

“ ‘ If your lairdship means the puir negro bodies, I dinna ken; 
I hae nae seen ane of them the day,’ I answered. An noo, 


CLAUDIA AT CAMERON COURT. 


321 

me leddy, ye maun e^en just forgie’ an auld cummer like me- 
ser gin she writes you a’ that followed, e’en though it should 
cut you to the heart; for ye ought to ken weel the ways o’ 
your bitter ill-wishers. Aweel, then, and when I had answered 
me laird, he turned to the poleecemen and said: 

“ ^ The truth is, Mr. Murray, that you have been deceived by 
a vera artful party. I may just as well tell you now what in 
a few days will be the talk of every taproom in the United 
Kingdom. When I was in America I was regularly taken in by 
a beautiful adventuress, whom I found — ^worse luck — in the 
best circles there. I married the creature and brought her 
to this castle, which she has dishonored.’ And here, me leddy, 
he gave the poleeceman an exaggerated account of the finding 
of Frisbie in your leddyship’s room. And then he rang the bell, 
and sent for the player bodie and her friend, who cam’ in and 
confeermed a’ that he tauld the poleeceman. And then me laird 
spake up and said that the negroes had run off wi’ a large quan- 
tity of jewelry and plate; that he had nae doubt but your leddy- 
ship had gi’e them commission to purloin it; that your leddy- 
ship’s visit and compleent to the poleece was naught but a blind 
to deceive them; and finally that he demanded to have a war- 
rant issued for the arrest of the negroes on the charge of theft. 

“ Aweel, me leddy, ye ken that your leddyship and your puir 
serving bodies are strangers here, and me laird and a’ his 
family are well kenned folk, and, mare than that, they are 
o’ the auld nobility — mare the shame for me laird, na better 
to do honor till his race. And sae the lang and short o’ it is, 
he talked over the poleecemen, sae that instead of pursuing 
their investigations in the castle, they went off with me laird 
to have warrants out for the apprehension of the puir negro 
folk, whilk I believe to be as innocent of theft as I mysel’ or 
auld Cuthbert. And noo, me leddy, I hae telled ye a’, think- 
ing till mesel’ that ye ought to ken it. And sae maun e’en 
just commit your ways to the Lord, and put your trust intil 
him. Auld Cuthbert and mesel’ pray for your leddyship ilka 
day, that ye may be deleevered fra the spoilers, and fra a’ those 
wha gang about to wark you wae. Me laird hae gane his ways 
up to Lunnun, as I tauld your leddyship. And the player quean 
and her cummer hae possession o’ the house, and guide a’ things 
their ain gait, wae’s me ! Gin I suld hear onything anent your 
leddyship’s puir negro folk, I will mak’ haste to let your leddy- 
ship ken. Auld Cuthbert begs permission to send his duty and 


322 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

his prayers for your leddyship’s happiness. And I myse? hae 
the honor to be your honorable leddyship’s 

“ Obedient humble servant to command, 

“Jean Murdock.” 

When Claudia had finished reading this letter she passed it 
with a sad smile to Lady Hurstmonceux, who, as soon as she 
had in her turn perused it, tossed it upon the table, saying, 
scornfully : 

“ ‘ Whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad ! ’ 
Lord Vincent appears to me to have lost his reason. He thinks 
that he is weaving a net of circumstantial evidence around you 
for your ruin, when he is, in fact, only involving himself in in- 
tricacies of crime which must inevitably prove his destruction.” 

“ I cannot, oh, I cannot, see it in the same light that you do ! 
It seems to me that he has succeeded in making me appear 
guilty,” said Claudia, with a shudder. 

“ Ah, let us not talk of it, since talking will do no good ; at 
least not now. When your father comes, then we will talk and 
act,” said the countess soothingly, as she set a cup of fragrant 
coffee before her guest. 

How I do not know whether you care to be informed how 
Claudia passed her time during the five weeks of her sojourn at 
Cameron Court, so I shall make the description of her visit a 
short one. 

In the first place, you may be sure, from what you have al- 
ready seen of Lady Hurstmonceux, that she would not allow 
her guest to mope. 

As soon as the snow ceased to fall and the sky cleared, with 
a sharp northwest wind that froze the river hard, the countess 
took her guest out to learn the exhilarating art of skating, 
and in this way they employed an hour or two of each morning. 
The remainder of the day would be passed in needlework, 
reading, music, and conversation. 

When the weather moderated and the ice was unsafe for skat- 
ing, they substituted ridiug and driving excursions, and visited 
all the remarkable places in the neighborhood. 

They visited Koslyn Castle and went down into those fearful 
vaults, three tiers undeiSground, and listened to the guide who 
told them traditions of the princely state kept up by the an- 
cient lords of Eoslyn, who had noblemen of high degree for 
their carvers and cupbearers; and of those ladies of Koslyn, 


CLAUDIA AT CAMEKON COURT. 323 

who never moved from home without a train of two hundred 
waiting gentlewomen and two hundred mounted knights. 

They visited Roslyn Chapel and admired the unequaled 
beauty of its architecture, and gazed at the wondrous chef 
d’oeuvre — the “ apprentice’s pillar ” — and heard the story how 
a poor but gifted boy, hoping to please, had designed and exe- 
cuted the work during the absence of his master, who, on re- 
turning and seeing the beautiful pillar, fell into a frenzy of 
envious rage and slew his apprentice. 

They visited the ruins of Craigmillar Castle and stood in the 
little stone den, seven feet by four, which is known as “ Queen 
Mary’s bedroom.” They saw those deep, dark dungeons where 
in the olden times captives pined away their lives forgotten of 
all above ground ; they saw the “ execution room,” with its con- 
demned cell, its chains and staples, its instruments of torture, 
its altar and its block. 

It was indeed a 

— “ Dire dungeon, place of doom, 

Of execution, too, and tombi ” 

where, in those savage times, great criminals and innocent 
victims were alike condemned unheard, and secretly shrived, 
beheaded, and buried. 

They passed on to a still more terrible dungeon among those 
dread vaults — a circular stone crypt surrounded by tall, deep, 
narrow niches, in which human beings had been built up alive. 

With a shudder Claudia turned from all these horrors to the 
countess : 

It is said that our country has no past, no history, no monu- 
ments. I am glad of it. Better her past should be a blank page 
than be written over with such bloody hieroglyphics as these. 
When I consider these records and reflect upon the deeds of 
this crime-stained old land, I look cpon our own young nation 
as an innocent child. Let us leave this place. It kills me, 
Berenice.” 

On Sunday morning at the breakfast table Lady Hurstmon- 
ceux proposed, as the day was fine, that they should drive into 
Edinboro’ and attend divine services at St. Giles’ Cathedral, 
interesting from being the most ancient place of worship in the 
city; a richly endowed abbey and ecclesiastical school in the 
Middle Ages; and at a later period, after the Reformation, 


324 


self-kaised; oe, feom the berths. 

the church from which John Knox delivered his fierce denun- 
ciation of the sins and sinners of his day. 

All this Berenice told Claudia at the breakfast table, seek- 
ing to draw her thoughts away from the subject of her own 
position. 

But at the invitation from Lady Hurstmonceux to attend a 
Christian place of worship Claudia looked up in surprise and 
exclaimed impulsively : 

'' But I thought ” 

And there she stopped and blushed. 

Lady Hurstmonceux understood her, smiled, and answered: 

“You thought that I was a Jewess. Well, I was born and 
brought up in the Jewish faith. But it is now many years. 
Lady Vincent, since I embraced the Christian religion.” 

“I am very glad! I am very, very glad! Ah! I am but a 
poor, unworthy Christian myself, yet I do rejoice in every soul 
converted to Christ,” said Claudia warmly, clasping the hand of 
her hostess ; and, while holding it, she continued to say : “ I do 
love to live in an atmosphere of Christianity, and I hate to live 
out of it. That was one reason, among others, why I was so 
unutterably wretched at Castle Cragg. They were such irre- 
deemable atheists. There was never a visit to church, never a 
prayer, never a grace, never a chapter from the Bible, never 
any sort of acknowledgment of their Creator, never the slight- 
est regard to his laws. Lord Vincent and Mrs. Dugald would 
sit down and play cards through a whole Sabbath evening, as 
upon any other. Oh, it was dreadful. Looking back upon my 
life among them, I wonder — yes, wonder — ^how I ever could have 
lived through it ! Coming from that place to this. Lady Hurst- 
monceux, is like coming from something very like hell to some- 
thing very like heaven.” 

“ You were tortured in many ways, my poor Claudia. You 
are now off the rack, that is all. And now, I suppose, we are 
to go to St. Giles’ ? ” 

“ If you please, yes ; I should like to do so.” 

Lady Hurstmonceux rang the bell and ordered the carriage. 
And then the friends arose from the breakfast table and re- 
tired to prepare for church. 

They enjoyed a beautiful drive of seven miles through a 
wildly picturesque country, and entered the town and reached 
the church in time for the opening of the services. 

The preacher of the day was a very worthy successor of John 


CLAUBIA AT CAMEEON COURT. 325 

Knox, having all the faith and hope, and a good deal more of 
charity than that grand old prophet of wrath had ever dis- 
played. 

This was the first divine worship that Claudia had engaged 
in for many months. It revived, comforted, and strengthened 
her. 

She left the church in a better mood of mind than she had 
perhaps ever experienced in the whole course of her life. Her 
inmost thought was this : 

“ God enriched my life with the most bountiful blessings. 
But by sins turned them all into curses and brought my sor- 
rows upon me. I will repent of my sins, I will accept my sor- 
rows. God from his own mercy and not from my deserts has 
brought me thus far alive through my troubles; he has raised 
up a friend to succor me. I will bow down in penitence, in 
humility, in gratitude before him, and I will try to serve him 
truly in the future, and I will trust all that future to him.” 

They reached home to a late dinner, and spent the evening 
in such serious reading and conversation and sacred music as 
befitted the day. Hot one dull hour had Claudia experienced 
during her residence at Cameron Court. 

On Monday, which was another fine winter day, the countess 
said to her guest: 

“ This is the day of each week that I always devote to my 
poor. Would you like to drive around with me in the pony 
chaise and make acquaintance with the peasantry of Scotland ? 
You will find them a very intelligent, well-educated class.” 

Thank you, I should enjoy the drive quite as much as any 
that we have yet taken,” said Claudia. 

And accordingly after breakfast the ladies set out upon their 
rounds. Berenice did not go empty-handed. Hampers of food 
and bundles of clothing filled up every available space in the 
carriage. It was a very pleasant drive. To every cottage tha' 
the countess entered she brought relief, comfort, and cheer- 
fulness. 

The children greeted her with glad smiles; the middle-aged 
with warm thanks; and the old with fervent blessings. Hot 
from one humble homestead did she turn without leaving some 
token of her passage; with one family she v/ould leave the 
needed supply of food; with another the necessary winter 
clothing; with another, wine, medicine, or books. With others, 
very poor, she would leave a portion of all these requisites. 


326 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

Finally, when the sun was sinking to his setting behind the 
Pentland Hills, she returned home with her guest. 

“ I must thank you for a very pleasant day. Lady Hurstmon- 
ceux. One of the pleasantest I have ever passed in my life. 
For I have witnessed and I have felt more real pleasure to-day 
than I ever remember to have experienced before. You have 
conferred much happiness to-day. If you dispense as much on 
every Monday, as I suppose you do, the aggregate must be very 
great,” said Claudia, with enthusiasm, as they sat together at 
tea that evening in “ my lady’s little drawing room.” 

For some minutes Berenice did not reply, and when she did, 
she spoke very seriously. 

“ If there is one thing more than another for which I thank 
God, it is for making me one of his stewards. Do you suppose, 
Claudia, that I hold all the wealth that he has entrusted to me, 
as my own, to be used for my own exclusive benefit? Oh, no! 
I feel that I am but his almoner, and I am often ashamed of 
taking as I do, the lion’s share of the good things,” she added, 
glancing around upon the luxuries that encompassed her. 

The next day Lady Hurstmonceux proposed another ex- 
cursion. 

“ I will not take you to visit any romantic old ruin this morn- 
ing; but to vary the programme I will take you to see an in- 
teresting living reality.” 

And accordingly the carriage was ordered and they drove 
out to Hew Haven, a fishing village within three miles of 
Edinboro’, and yet as isolated and as primitive in its manners 
and customs as the most remote hamlet in the country. 

There Claudia was amused and interested in watching the 
coming in of the fishing boats, and observing the picturesque 
attire of the fish-wives, and listening to the deafening clatter 
of their tongues as they chaffered with the fishermen, while 
lading their baskets. 

This was another pleasant day for Claudia. 

But it would stretch this chapter to too great a length to 
describe each day of her sojourn at Cameron Court. 

Let it suffice to say in general terms that the countess kept 
her guest usefully employed or agreeably entertained during 
the whole of her visit. There was neither a tedious nor a 
fatiguing hour in the five weeks of her sojourn. 

Every Sunday they attended divine worship at St. Giles’ 
Cathedral,” commonly called “John Knox’s church.” Every 


SUSPEIS-SE. 


327 

Monday they went their rounds among the poor. Other days 
in the week they visited interesting and remarkable places 
in and around Edinboro’. And thus cheerfully passed the days. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

SUSPENSE. 

Wait, for the day is breaking, 

Tho’ the dull night be long. 

Wait, Heav’n is not forsaking 
Thy heart— be strong! be strong! 

—Anon. 

As the time approached when Claudia might reasonably ex- 
pect a reply to the letter she had written to her father, she 
naturally became very anxious. 

Would he answer that last urgent appeal by letter or in per- 
son? that was the question she was forever asking of herself. 

And the response of her heart was always the same ; he would 
lose no time in writing, he would hasten at once to her relief. 

Ah! but if he should be ill, or — even dead? What then? 
Claudia’s anxiety grew daily more acute. 

She had heard nothing of the fate of her negroes. She 
learned by a second letter from Jean Murdock that Mrs. Dugald 
still remained at Castle Cragg, lording it o’er a’,” as the house- 
keeper expressed it. And she saw by the Times ” that Mal- 
colm, Viscount Vincent, had filed a petition for divorce from 
his viscountess. That was all. 

The fourth week had nearly gone by when one morning, 
on coming to the breakfast table, Claudia found lying beside 
her plate a foreign letter. 

At the very first glance at its superscription she recognized 
her father’s firm handwriting, and with an irrepressible cry of 
joy she snatched it up. 

It was the short letter Judge Merlin had hastily penned on 
the eve of his journey to Washington. It merely stated that he 
had just that instant taken her letters from the post office; 
and that, in order to save the immediately outgoing mail, he 
answered them without leaving the office, to announce to her 
that he should sail for England on the Oceana,” that would 
leave Boston on the following Wednesday. And then, with 
Strong expressions of indication against Lord Vincent, sor- 


328 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

row for Claudia’s troubles, and affection for herself, the letter 
closed. 

“Oh, Berenice, Berenice! I am so happy; so very happy!” 
exclaimed Claudia wildly. “ My father has written to me ! he 
is well! he is coming! he is coming! he will he here in a few 
days ! in a very few days ! for this letter was written in the post 
office, to save the very last mail that came by the steamer im- 
mediately preceding the ^Oceana’! Oh, Berenice, I could 
cry with joy! ” 

“ I congratulate you with all my heart, dear Claudia. Yes, 
I should think your father would now be here in two or three 
days, at farthest,” said Lady Hurstmonceux. 

“And oh, how shall I get over the interval? Ah, Berenice, 
indulge me ! Let us go down to Liverpool to meet my father ! ” 

“My dear, I would do so in a moment, only I think it the 
worst plan you could pursue. In your circumstances, dearest 
Claudia, we must not go journeying through the country. We 
must live very quietly. And besides, though the ^ Oceana ' may 
reasonably be expected in two or three days, there is no reason 
in the world why she might not arrive to-day, or to-night. In 
which case, by going down to Liverpool, we shall be most likely 
to miss your father, who would be steaming up here.” 

“ Certainly, certainly ! I see the reasonableness of your views ; 
but how, then, shall I get over the intervening time ? ” 

“I might propose for you excursions to many interesting 
places in the vicinity of Edinboro’ which you have not seen; 
but that we must not go far from home, while expecting Judge 
Merlin. We must not happen to be absent when your father 
arrives.” 

“ Oh, no ! we must not risk such a thing, I know. Well, I 
will wait as patiently as I can.” 

“And I will tell you what you may do, meantime. To-day 
you shall superintend in person the preparation of a suite of 
rooms for your father. You shall let my housekeeper into the 
secret of all his little tastes, and they shall be considered in 
the arrangements. That will occupy one day. To-morrow, you 
know, is Sunday, and we must go to church. That will occupy 
the second. The next day, Monday, we will make our weekly 
round among the poor. That will occupy the third day, to the 
exclusion of everything else. For if there is one employment 
more than another that will make us forget our personal anx- 
ieties, it is ministering to the wants of others. And, in all 


SUSPENSE. 3^9 

liuman probability, before Monday evening Judge Merlin will 
be here.” 

“Yes, yes! Oh, my dear father! I can scarcely realize that 
I shall see him so soon,” said Claudia, with emotion. 

The countess’ programme was carried out. Claudia spent 
that day in superintending the arrangements of a handsome 
suite of rooms for her father. 

On Sunday they went to church. But the text was an unfor- 
tunate one for Claudia’s spirits. It was taken from James iv. 
13 : “Ye know not what shall be on the morrow.” And the 
subject of the discourse was on the vanity of human expecta- 
tions and the uncertainty of human destiny. Claudia returned 
home greatly depressed; but that depression soon yielded to- 
the cheerfulness of Lady Hurstmonceux’s manner. 

On Monday they made their rounds among the poor; and 
Claudia forgot her anxieties and felt happy in the happiness 
she saw dispensed around her. 

Yes, the programme of the countess was carried out, but her 
previsions were not realized. Judge Merlin did not come that 
evening, nor on the next morning, nor on the next evening. 

On Wednesday morning Claudia, as usual, seized the 
“ Times ” as soon as it was brought in, and turned eagerly to 
the telegraphic column. But there was no arrival from 
America. Glancing farther down the column she* suddenly 
grew pale and exclaimed: 

“ Oh, Berenice ! ” 

“ What is it, dear ? ” inquired the countess. 

Claudia read aloud the paragraph that had alarmed her: 

“ The ‘ Oceana ’ is now several days overdue. Serious appre- 
hensions are entertained for her safety.” 

“Do not be alarmed, my dear. At this season of the year 
the steamers are frequently delayed beyond their usual time 
of arrival,” said the countess, with a cheerfulness that she was 
very far from really feeling. 

“ But if there should have been an accident ! ” 

“My dear, that line of steamers has never had an accident. 
And their good fortune is not the effect of luck, but of the 
great care bestowed by the company and its officers upon the 
safety of those who trust to them their lives and goods. Ee- 
assure yourself, Claudia.” 

But that was easier said than done. Three or four more of 
anxious days and nights passed, during which Claudia watched 


330 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

the papers for the arrival of the ocean steamers; but all in 
vain, until the Saturday morning of that week, when, as usual, 
she opened the “ Times ” and turned to the telegraphic column. 

She could scarcely repress the cry of anguish that arose to 
her lips on reading the following: 

“ Arrival of the ocean steamers. The screw propeller ‘ Su- 
perior,^ with New York mails of the 15th, has reached Queens- 
town. On the Banks of Newfoundland she passed the wreck 
of a large steamer, supposed to be the ^ Oceana.^ ” 

Oh, Berenice! Oh, Berenice! Can this be true? Oh! 
Speak a word of hope or comfort to me ! ” cried Claudia, wring- 
ing her hands in the extremity of mental agony. 

“ My dear, let us still hope for the best. There is no certainty 
that it is the wreck of the ^ Oceana.^ There is no certainty that 
the ^ Oceana ^ is wrecked at all. She is delayed ; that is all which 
is known. And that is often the case with the ocean steamers 
at this season of the year, as I told you before,” said the count- 
ess, trying to inspire Claudia with a hope that she herself 
scarcely dared to indulge. 

But Claudia’s face was drawn with anguish. 

“ Oh, the suspense, the terrible agony of suspense ! It is 
worse than death ! ” she cried. 

The countess essayed to comfort her, but in vain. 

All that day, and for many succeeding ones, Claudia was like 
a victim stretched upon the rack. The torture of uncertainty 
was harder to endure than any certainty; it was, as she said, 
‘‘worse than death,” worse than despair! Some two weeks 
passed away, during which her very breath of life seemed al- 
most suspended in the agony of hope that could not die. 

At length one morning, on descending to the breakfast parlor, 
she found Lady Hurstmonceux reading the “ Times.” 

“ Any news ? ” inquired Claudia, in a faint voice. 

The countess looked up. Claudia read the expression of her 
face, which seemed to say, prepare for good news. 

“ Oh, yes, there is ! there is ! ” exclaimed Claudia, suddenly 
snatching the paper, and turning to the telegraphic column, 
and then, with a cry of joy, sinking into her seat. 

“ Let me read it to you, my dear, you are incapable of doing 
so,” said Berenice, gently taking the paper from her hand and 
reading aloud the following paragraph : 

“ News of the ‘ Oceana.’ — The Oriental and Peninsular Steam 


SUSPENSE. 


381 


Packet Company’s ship ‘Albatross’ has arrived at Liverpool, 
bringing all the passengers and crew of the ‘ Oceana,’ wrecked 
on the banks of Newfoundland. They were picked up by the 
‘ Santiago,’ bound for Havana, and taken to that port, whence 
they sailed by the ‘ Cadiz ’ for the port of Cadiz, whence lastly 
they were brought by the ‘Albatross’ to Liverpool. Among 
the passengers saved were Chief Justice Merlin of the United 
States Supreme Court, Ishmael Worth, Esquire, a distinguished 
member of the Washington bar, and Professor Erasmus Kerr, 
of the Glasgow University. The shipwrecked passengers have 
all arrived in good health and spirits, and have already dis- 
persed to their various destinations.” 

“This is too much joy! Oh, Berenice, it is too much joy!” 
cried Claudia, bursting into tears and throwing herself into 
the arms of Lady Hurstmonceux, and weeping freely on the 
sympathetic bosom of that faithful friend. 

“ Claudia, dear,” whispered that gentle lady, “ go to your 
room and shut yourself in, and kneel and return thanks to God 
for this his great mercy. And so shall your spirits be calmed 
and strengthened.” 

Claudia ceased weeping, kissed her kind monitress, and went 
and complied with her counsel. And very fervent was the 
thanksgiving that went up to Heaven from her relieved and 
grateful heart. She had finished her prayers and had arisen 
from her knees and was sitting by her writing-table indulging 
in a reverie of anticipation, when a bustle below stairs attracted 
her attention. 

She listened. 

Yes, it was the noise of an arrival ! 

With a joyous presentiment of what had come to the house, 
Claudia rushed out of the room and down the stairs to the lower 
entrance hall, and the next moment found herself clasped to 
the bosom of her father. 

Eor a few moments neither spoke. The embrace was a fer- 
vent, earnest, but silent one. 

The judge was the first to break the spell. 

“ Oh, my child! my child! Thank God that I find you alive 
and well ! ” he exclaimed, in a broken voice. 

“ Oh, my father, my dear, dear father ! ” began Claudia ; but 
ehe broke down, burst into tears, and wept upon his bosom. 

He held her there, soothing her with loving words and ten- 


332 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

der caresses, as he had been accustomed to do when she was but 
a child coming to him with her childish troubles. When 
Claudia had exhausted her passion of tears, she looked up and 
said: 

^^But, papa, you have not been in the drawing room yet? 
You have not seen Lady Hurstmonceux ? ” 

^‘No, my dear, I have but just arrived. Claudia, immedi- 
ately upon my landing I took the first train north, and reached 
Edinboro’ this morning. I sent my party on to Magruder’s 
Hotel and took a fly and drove immediately out here. I have 
but just been admitted to the house and sent my card in to the 
hostess. And, ah, I see that my messenger has returned.” 

A servant in livery came up, bowed, and said: 

“ My lady directs me to say to you, sir, that she will see you 
immediately in the drawing room, unless you would prefer to 
go first to the apartments which are prepared for you, sir.” 

The judge hesitated, and then turned to his daughter and 
whispered the inquiry: 

“ How do I look, Claudia ? Presentable ? ” 

Lady Vincent ran her eyes over the traveler and answered: 

‘^Hot at all presentable, papa. You look just as one might 
expect you to do — ^black with smoke and dust and cinders, as if 
you had traveled in the train all night.” 

“ Which of course I did.” 

And I think you would be all the better for a visit to your 
rooms, papa. Come, I will show you the way, for I am as much 
at home here as ever I was at dear old Tangle wood. James,” 
she said, turning to the footman who had brought the message, 
‘‘ you need not wait. I will show my papa his rooms ; but you 
may order breakfast for him, for I dare say he has had none. 
Come, papa ! ” 

And so saying Claudia marshaled her father upstairs to the 
handsome suite of apartments that had been made ready for 
him. When he had renovated his toilet, he declared himself 
ready to go below and be presented to his hostess. Claudia 
conducted him downstairs and into ‘‘my lady’s little drawing 
room.” 


FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 


333 


CHAPTER XL. 

FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 

How deep, how thorough felt the glow 
Of rapture, kindling out of woe; 

How exquisite one single drop 
Of bliss, that sparkling to the top 
Of misery’s cup, is keenly quaffed 
Though death must follow soon the draught. 

— Moore. 

The countess was sitting on one of the armchairs near the fire 
when Claudia led the judge up before her, saying only: 

‘^Lady Hurstmonceux, my father.” 

The countess arose and held out her hand with a smile of 
welcome, saying : 

It gives me much joy to see you safe, after all your dangers. 
Judge Merlin. Pray sit near the fire.” 

The judge retained her hand in his own for a moment, while 
he bowed over it and answered: 

“I thank you for your kind expressions, dear Lady Hurst- 
monceux. But, oh! what terms shall I find strong enough to 
thank you for the noble support you have given my daughter 
in her great need ? ” 

“ Believe me, I was very happy to be serviceable to Lady 
Vincent,” replied the countess gently. Then, turning to Clau- 
dia, she said: 

‘‘Your father has probably not had breakfast.” 

“Ho; but I assumed the privilege of ordering it for him,” 
replied the latter. 

“ The ‘ privilege ’ was yours without assumption, my dear. 
You did exactly right,” said the countess. 

“ I see that my daughter is quite at home with you, madam,” 
observed the judge. 

“ Oh, I adopted her. I told her that I should be her mother 
until the arrival of her father,” replied Lady Hurstmonceux 
smiling. 

At this moment the footman put his head in at the door to 
say that the judge’s breakfast was served. Lady Hurstmonceux 
led the way to the breakfast parlor, and then saying: 

“You will make your father comfortable here, Claudia, I 
hope,” she bowed and left them alone together. 


334 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

Claudia sat down to the table and began to pour out the 
coffee. James, the footman, was in attendance. 

^‘Dismiss the servant, my dear,” said the judge, as he took 
his seat as near to his daughter as the conveniences of the table 
would allow. 

*‘You may retire, James. I will ring if you are wanted.” 

The man bowed and went out. The father and daughter 
looked up; their eyes met and filled with tears. 

Oh, my child, how much we have to say to each other ! ” 
sighed the judge. 

“ Yes, but, dear papa, drink your coffee first. You really look 
as though you needed it very much,” replied Claudia affection- 
ately. 

The judge complied with her advice; though, if the truth 
must be told, he ate and drank indiscreetly fast in order to get 
through soon and be at liberty to talk to his daughter. When 
he arose from the table Claudia rang the bell for the service 
to be removed, and then led the way again to my lady’s little 
drawing room. 

It was deserted. Lady Hurstmonceux had evidently left 
it that the father and daughter might converse with each other 
unembarrassed by the presence of a third person. 

“ My dear,” said the judge, as he seated himself on the sofa 
beside his daughter, wound his arm around her shoulders, and 
looked wistfully into her face, “do you know that I am sur- 
prised to see you looking so well? You must possess a great 
deal of fortitude, Claudia, to have passed through so much 
trouble as you have and show so few signs of suffering as you 
do.” 

“Ah, papa! if you had arrived a few days ago and seen me 
then, you would have had good cause to say I looked well. 
But, for the last week, the intense anxiety I have felt on your 
account has worn me considerably.” 

“ My poor girl! Yes, I know how that must have been. The 
news of the shipwreck arrived long before we reached England, 
and everyone must have given us up for lost.” 

“I did not. Oh, no! I could not! I still hoped; but, oh, 
with what an agony of hope ! ” 

“ Such hope, my child, is worse than despair.” 

“ Oh, no ! I thought so then. I do not think so now ; now 
that I have you beside me.” 

“ Now that it is ended. But, oh, my dear child, how hard it 


FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 335 

was for you to have anxiety for my fate added to all your other 
troubles ! ” 

“Papa, anxiety for your fate was my only trouble,” said 
Claudia gravely. 

“ How ! what ! your only trouble, Claudia ? I do not under- 
stand you in the least.” 

“ All my other troubles had passed away. And now that 
anxiety is at an end, that trouble is also passed away and I have 
none.” 

“Hone, Claudia? How you perplex me, my dccr.” 

“ Hone, papa ! I left them all behind at Castle Cragg.” 

“ I do not — cannot comprehend you, my dear.” 

“ Ho, papa, you cannot comprehend me ; no one could possibly 
comprehend me who had not been placed in something like my 
own position. But — can you not imagine that when a victim 
has been stretched upon the rack and tortured by executioners, 
it is comfort enough simply to be taken off it ? Or when a sinner 
has been in purgatory tormented by fiends, it is heaven enough 
only to be out of it ? Oh, papa, that is not exaggeration ! That 
is something like what I suffered at Castle Cragg; something 
like what I enjoy in being away from it. Think of it, papa,” 
said Claudia, gulping down the hysterical sob that arose to her 
throat ; “ think of it ! me, an honorable woman, the daughter of 
Christian parents, to find myself living in the house, sitting at 
the table in daily communication with creatures that no honest 
man or pure woman would ever willingly approach ! Think of 
me being not only in the company, but in the power, and at the 
mercy of such wretches ! ” 

“ ^ Think,’ Claudia ! I have thought until my brain has nearly 
burst. Oh, I shall — no matter what I shall do ! I will 
threaten no longer, but, by all my hopes of salvation, I will 
act. The remorseless monster! the infamous villain! I do 
not know how you lived through it all, Claudia ! ” 

“I do not know myself, papa. Oh, sir, I never fully real- 
ized my life at Castle Cragg until I got away from it and could 
look back on it from a distance. For the trouble then grew 
around me gradually ; slowly astonishing me, if you can conceive 
of such a thing; benumbing my heart; stupefying my brain; 
deadening my sensibilities; else I could not have endured it so 
quietly. Ah, it would have ended in death, though — death of 
the body, perhaps death of the soul! But still I knew enough, 
felt enough, to experience and appreciate the infinite relief 


336 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

of being delivered from it. Oh, papa, looking back upon that 
home of horror, that den of infamy, I understand in what hell 
consists — not in consuming fire, but in the company of devils I 
Oh, sir, if you could once place yourself in my position and 
feel what it was for me to leave that polluted atmosphere of sen- 
suality, treachery, and hatred, and to come into this pure air 
of refinement, truth, and love, you would understand how it 
is that I can feel no trouble now ! ” 

“I do ; but still I wonder to see you so well.” 

Oh, sir, you know, severe as my tortures were, they were 
only superficial, only skin-deep; they did not reach the springs 
of my spirits. That is the reason why, in being relieved, I am 
so perfectly at ease.” 

. Then you never loved that scoundrel, Claudia ? ” 

No, father, I never loved him. Therefore, the memory of his 
villainy does not haunt me, as otherwise it might. Not loving 
him, I ought never to have married him. If I had not, I should 
have escaped all the suffering.” 

“ Ah, Claudia, would to Heaven you never had married him,” 
sighed the judge, without intending to cast the least reproach 
on his daughter. 

She felt the reproach, however, and exclaimed, with passion- 
ate earnestness : 

Oh, father, do not blame me — do not ! I could not help it ! 
Oh, often I have examined my conscience on that score and 
asked myself if I could! And the answer has always come — 
no, with my nature, my passions, my pride, my ambition, I 
could not help doing as I have done ! ” 

“ Could not help marrying a man you could not love, Clau- 
dia?” ^ 

“No, papa, no! There were passions in my nature stronger 
than love. These spurred me on to my fate. I was born with 
a great deal of pride, inherited from — no one knows how many 
ancestors. This should have been curbed, trained, directed into 
worthy channels. But it was not. I was left to develop natu- 
rally, with the aid only of intellectual education. I did develop, 
from a proud, frank, high-spirited girl into a vain, scheming, 
ambitious woman. I married for a title. And this is the end. 
How true is it that ^ pride goeth before a fall and a haughty 
temper before destruction ! ’ ” 

“Oh, Claudia, Claudia, every word you speak wounds me 
like a sword-thrust ! It was my ‘ theory ’ that did it all. I said 


FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 


837 

I would let my trees and my daughter grow up as nature in- 
tended them to do. And what is the result? Tanglewood has 
grown into an inextricable wilderness that nothing but a fire 
could clear, and my daughter’s life has run to waste ! ” groaned 
the judge, covering his face with his hands. ♦ 

“ Papa, dear, dearest papa, do not grieve so ! I did not mean 
to give you pain. I did not mean to breathe the slightest re- 
fiection upon so kind a father as you have always been to me. 
I meant only to explain myself a little. But I wish I had not 
spoken so. Forget what I have said, papa,” said Claudia, ten- 
derly caressing her father. 

“ Let it all pass, my dear child,” said the judge, embracing 
her. 

^‘And, papa, my life has not run to waste; do not think it. 
I told you that my troubles had not touched the springs of my 
soul; they have not. Is not my mind as strong and my heart 
as warm and my spirit as sweet as ever? Papa, this day I am 
a better woman for all the troubles I have passed through. I 
have never before been much comfort to you, my poor papa; 
but I will go with you to Tanglewood and make your home 
happier than it has ever been since mamma died. And you 
will find that my life shall be redeemed from waste.” 

“ Claudia, are you sure that you do not love that rascal — not 
even a little?” 

^^Papa, I do not even hate him; now judge if I ever could 
have loved him.” 

But the judge was no metaphysician, and he looked puzzled. 

Papa, if I ever had loved that man, do you not suppose that 
Ms unfaithfulness, neglect, and insults, to say nothing of his 
last foul wrong against me, would have turned all my love into 
hatred? But I never loved him, therefore all that he could do 
would not provoke my hatred. Papa, he is as much below my 
hatred as my love.” 

“ Oh, Claudia, Claudia, that you should be compelled to 
speak so of one whom you made your husband ! ” 

‘^Papa, dear, you asked me a question and I have replied to 
it truthfully.” 

^‘My dear, I had a motive for putting that question. I 
wished to know whether a spark of love for that man survived 
in your heart to make his punishment a matter of painful in- 
terest to you. For to vindicate you, Claudia, it may become 
necessary to prosecute him with tlw utmost rigor of the law; 


338 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

necessary, in fact, to disgrace and ruin him,” said the judge 
solemnly. 

Papa, dear, what are you talking about ? Prosecute him to 
the utmost extent of the law? Disgrace and ruin him? Why, 
it appears to me that you do not know the circumstances, as 
of course you cannot. He has schemed so successfully, papa, 
that he has everything his own way. All the evidence, the false 
but damning evidence, is in his favor and against me. It 
seems to me, reflecting coolly upon the circumstances, to be quite 
impossible that he should be punished or I should be vindicated 
— in this world at least.” 

Claudia, I know more of these circumstances than you think 
I do. I know more of them than you do; and I repeat that, in 
order to vindicate your honor fully, it may be necessary to 
prosecute Malcolm, Lord Vincent, with the utmost rigor of 
the law; to bring him to the felon’s dock; to send him to the 
hulks. How, are you willing that this should be done?” 

Claudia turned very pale and answered: 

“ Let the man have justice, papa, if it places him on the 
scaffold.” 

“ There are two courses open to us, Claudia. The first is — 
simply to let him alone until he brings his suit for divorce, and 
then to meet him on that ground with such testimony as shall 
utterly defeat him and destroy his plea. In that case you will 
be vindicated from the charge that he has brought against you, 
but not from the reproach that, however undeserved, will attach 
to a woman who has been the defendant in a divorce trial, and 
he will go unpunished. The second course is to prosecute him 
at once in the criminal court for certain of his crimes that 
have come to my knowledge, and so put him out of the possi- 
bility of suing for a divorce. And in that case your honor 
would go unquestioned, and he would be condemned to a 
felon’s fate — penal servitude for years. How, Claudia, I place 
the man’s destiny in your hands. Shall we defend ourselves 
against him in a divorce court, or shall we prosecute him in a 
criminal court ? ” 

“Papa,” said Claudia, hesitating, and then speaking low, 
“ what does Ishmael advise ? ” 

“Ishmael? How did you know that he was with me, my 
dear ? ” 

“ I saw his name in the list of passengers, and I knew that he 
had come on with you as your private counselor.” 


FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 339 

‘^Yes, he did, at a vast sacrifice of his business; but then I 
never knew Worth to shrink from any self-sacrifice.” 

What is his advice ? ” asked Claudia, in a low voice. 

^‘He does more than advise; in this matter he dictates — 
had almost said he commands; at least he insists that the di- 
vorce suit shall not be permitted to come on; that it shall be 
stopped by the arrest of Lord Vincent upon criminal charges 
that we shall be able to prove upon him. And that after the 
conviction of the viscount you shall bring suit for a divorce 
from him; for that it would not be well that your fate should 
remain linked to that of a felon.” 

“Then, papa, let it be as Mr. Worth says; and if the prose- 
cution should place the viscount on the scaffold — ^let it place 
him there.” 

“ It will not go so far as that, my dear — not in this century. 
If he had lived in the last century, and amused himself as he 
has done in this, he would have swung for it, that is cer- 
tain.” 

“Papa, what is it that you have found out about him? 
Was he implicated in the death of poor Ailsie Dunbar? And, 
if so, how did you find it out? Tell me.” 

“ My dearest, we have both much to tell each other. But I 
wish to hear your story first. Remember, Claudia, those alarm- 
ing letters ypu sent me were very meager in their details. Tell 
me everything, ?my child ; everjd^hing from the time you left me 
until., the time you met me again.” 

“Papa, dear, it is a long, grievous, terrible story. I do not 
know how you will bear it. You are sensitive, excitable, im- 
petuous. I scarcely dare to tell you. I fear to see how you 
wiU hear it. I dread its effects upon you.” 

“ Claudia, my dearest, conceal nothing ; tell me all ; and I 
promise to restrain my emotions and listen to you calmly.” 

Upon this Claudia commenced the narrative of her su" wrings 
from the moment of parting with her father at Boston to the 
moment of meeting with him at Cameron Court. The reader 
is already acquainted with the story, and does not need to hear 
Claudia’s narration. Judge Merlin also knew much of it; as 
much as old Katie had been able to impart to him ; but he wished 
to hear a more intelligent version of it from his daughter. It 
was, as she had said, a long, sorrowful, terrible story; such as 
it was not in the nature of woman to recite calmly. Some parts 
of it were told with pale cheeks, faltering tones, and falling 


840 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

tears; other parts were told with fiery blushes, flashing eyes, 
and clenched hands. 

At its conclusion Claudia said: 

“ There, papa, I have hidden nothing. I have told you every- 
thing. Now at last you will believe me when I tell you how 
perfectly relieved I feel only to be out of that purgatory — 
only to be away from those fiends! Now at last you will see 
how it is that I can say without ruth, ^ Let Malcolm, Lord 
Vincent, have justice, though that justice consign him to 
penal servitude, or to the gallows ! ’ But, papa, when I said I 
had no trouble left, I spoke in momentary forgetfulness of my 
poor servants; Heaven forgive me for it! Though, really, 
uncertainty about their fate is the only care I have.” 

“My dear,” said the judge, who had comported himself with 
wonderful calmness through the trying hour of Claudia^s nar- 
ration; “my dear, cast that care to the winds. Your servants 
are safe and well and near at hand.” 

“ ^ Safe and well, and near at hand ! ’ Oh, papa, are you cer- 
tain — quite certain?” exclaimed Claudia, in joy modified by 
doubt. 

“ Quite certain, my dearest, since I myself lodged them at 
Magruder^s Hotel this morning,” said the judge. 

“ Oh, thank Heaven ! ” exclaimed Claudia fervently. “ But, 
papa, tell me all about it. When, where, and how were they 
found?” 

“About three weeks ago, in Havana, by Ishmael,” answered 
the judge, speaking directly to the point. 

His daughter looked so amazed that he hastened to say: 

“It is easily understood, Claudia. ^You mentioned in the 
course of your narrative that you suspected the viscount of 
having spirited away the negroes. Your suspicion was correct. 
Through the agency of chloroform he abducted the negroes 
and got them on board a West Indian smuggler, that took them 
to Havana and sold them into slavery. When we went there 
on the ‘ Santiago,^ we found, recognized, and recovered them.” 

“ And what was his motive — the viscount’s motive, I mean — 
for selling my poor negroes into slavery, and thereby commit- 
ting a felony that would endanger his reputation and liberty? 
It could not have been want of money. The highest price they 
would bring could scarcely be an object to the Viscount Vin- 
cent. What, then, could have been his motive?” 

“What you mentioned that you suspected it to be, Claudia; 


FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 


341 


to get rid of dangerous witnesses against himself. But I had 
better tell you the whole story,” said the judge; and with that 
he began and related the history of the conspiracy entered into 
by the viscount, the valet, and the ex-opera singer, and over- 
heard by Katie; the discovery and seizure of the eavesdropper; 
and the abduction and sale of the negroes. 

At the conclusion of this narrative he said 
“ So you see, Claudia, that we have got this man completely 
in our power. Look at his crimes. First, complicity in the mur- 
der of Ailsie Dunbar; secondly, conspiracy against your honor; 
thirdly, kidnaping and slave-trading. The man is already 
ruined; and you, my dear, are saved.” 

“ Oh, thank Heaven, thank Heaven, that at least my name will 
be rescued from reproach ! ” cried Claudia earnestly, clasp- 
ing her hands and bursting into tears of joy, and weeping on her 
father’s bosom. 

^^Yes, Claudia,” he whispered, as he gently soothed her; 
yes, my child — thank Heaven first of all 1 for there was some- 
thing strangely providential in the seemingly dire misfortune 
that was the cause of our being taken to Havana. For if we 
had not gone thither, we should never have found the negroes; 
and if we had not found them, it would have been difficult, or 
impossible, to have vindicated you.” 

“ Oh, I know it. And I do thank Heaven.” 

“ And, after Heaven, there is one on earth to whom your 
thanks are due — Ishmael Worth. Not because he was the first 
to find the negroes, for that was an accident, but because he 
sacrificed so much in order to attend me on this voyage; and 
because he has been of such inestimable value to me in this 
business. Claudia, but that I had him with me in Havana, I 
should not now be by your side. But that I had him with me, 
I should have plunged myself headlong into two law cases 
that would have detained me in Havana for an indefinite time. 
But that I had him with me to restrain, to warn, and to counsel 
I should have prosecuted the smugglers for their share in the 
abduction of the negroes, and I should have sued the owners 
for the recovery of them. But I yielded to Ishmael’s earnest 
advice, and by the sacrifice of a sum of money and a desire of 
vengeance, I got easy possession of the negroes and brought 
them* on here. You owe much to Ishmael Worth, Claudia.” 

I know it, oh, I know it ! May Heaven reward him ! ” 
“And now our witnesses are at hand; and before night, 


342 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

Claudia, warrants shall be issued for the arrest of the Viscount 
Vincent, Alick Frisbie, and Faustina Dugald.” 

“ They can have no suspicion of what is coming upon them, 
and therefore will have no chance to escape.” 

“Not a bit. We shall come upon them unawares.” 

“How astonished they will be.” 

“Yes — and how confounded when confronted with my wit- 
nesses.” 

“ Papa, I am not malicious, but I think I should like to see 
their faces then.” 

“ My dearest Claudia, you will have to imagine them. You 
will not be an eye-witness of their confusion. You will not be 
required either at the preliminary examination or at the trial, 
and it would not be seemly that you should appear at either.” 

“ Oh, I know that, papa. And I am very glad that I shall 
not be wanted. But will the testimony of those three negroes 
be sufficient to convict the criminals ? ” 

“ Amply. But that testimony will not be unsupported. We 
shall summon the steward and housekeeper of Castle Cragg. 
And now, my dear, I must leave you, if the warrants are to be 
issued to-day,” said the judge, rising. 

“ So soon, papa ? ” 

“It is necessary, my dear.” 

“ But, at any rate, you will be back very shortly ? ” 

“ I do not know, my child.” 

“ The countess expects you to make Cameron Court your 
home while you remain in the neighborhood.” 

“Lady Hurstmonceux has not said so to me, Claudia.” 

“She has had no fit opportunity. Wait till you start to 
go.” 

“ By the way, I must take leave of my kind hostess,” said the 
judge, looking around the room as if in search of something or 
somebody. 

Claudia touched the bell. A footman entered. 

“ Let the countess know that the judge is going.” 

The servant bowed and withdrew, and Lady Hurstmonceux 
entered. 

“Going so soon, Judge Merlin?” she said. 

“Just what my daughter has this moment asked. Yes, 
madam; and you will acknowledge the urgency of my business, 
when I tell you it is to lodge information against Lord Vin- 
cent and his accomplices, and procure their immediate arrest. 


FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 343 

Upon the charge of certain grave crimes that have come to my 
knowledge, and that I am prepared to prove upon them.” 

“ You astonish me, sir. I certainly had reason to suspect 
Lord Vincent and his disreputable companions, but I am amazed 
that in so short a time you should have ferreted out so 
much.” 

It was accident, madam ; or rather,” said the judge, gravely 
bending his head, “ it was Providence. My daughter will ex- 
plain the circumstances to you, madam. And now, will you 
permit me once more to thank you for your great goodness to 
me and mine, and to bid you good-morning?” 

“I hope it will be only good-moming, then, judge, and not 
good-by. I beg that you will return and take up your residence 
with us while you remain in Scotland,” said the countess, with 
her sweetest smile. 

“ I should be delighted as well as honored, madam, in being 
your guest, but I am off to Banff by the midday train.” 

Off to Banff ? ” repeated Berenice and Claudia, in a breath. 

“ Certainly.” 

“ What is that for ? ” inquired Claudia. 

“ Why, my dear, there is where I must lodge information 
against the viscount and his accomplices. There is where the 
crimes were committed, and where the warrants must be issued.” 

“ Oh, I see.” 

I had forgotten. I was thinking ; or rather without think- 
ing at all, I was taking it for granted that it could be all done 
in Edinboro’,” smiled the countess. 

“ Madam, I must still leave my daughter a pensioner on your 
kindness for a few days,” said the judge, with a bow. 

“ You say that as if you supposed it possible for me to per- 
mit you to do anything else with her,” laughed the countess, 
holding out her hand to the judge. He raised it to his lips, 
bowed over it, and resigned it, all in the stately old-time way. 
Then he turned to his daughter, embraced her, and departed. 

How, Claudia, tell me what the judge has found out about 
Vincent. Was he implicated in that murder? I shouldn’t 
wonder if he was,” said the countess impatiently. 

That is just what I thought ; but that is not the case. Oh, 
Berenice, what a revelation it is; but I will tell you all about 
it,” said Claudia. 

And when they were cozily seated together beside the draw- 
ing-room fire Claudia related the story her father had told 


344 self-raiseb; or, from the depths. 

her of the conspiracy against her own honor, the abduction and 
sale of the negroes, and the recognition and recovery of them. 

“ I am not surprised at anything in that story but the provi- 
dential manner in which the servants were recovered. I be- 
lieve the viscount capable of any crime, or restrained only by 
his cowardice. If he should hesitate at assassination, I be- 
lieve that it would not be from the horror of blood-guiltiness, 
but from the fear of the gallows. I hope that no weak relenting, 
Claudia, will cause either you or your father to spare such a 
ruthless monster.” 

“Ho, Berenice, no. I have said to my father, ‘Let Lord 
Vincent have justice, though that justice place him in the 
felon^s dock, in the hulks, or on the scaffold.’ No, I do not be- 
lieve it would be fair to the community to turn such a man loose 
upon them.” 

While Lady Hurstmonceux and Lady Vincent conversed in 
this manner. Judge Merlin drove to Edinboro’. 

He reached Magruder’s Llotel, where he had left Ishmael 
Worth, the professor, and the three negroes. 

Ishmael had lost no time; he had seen that the whole party 
had breakfast; and then he had gone himself and engaged a 
first-class carriage in the express train that started for Aber- 
deen at twelve, noon. 

They were now therefore only waiting for Judge Merlin. 
And as soon as the judge arrived the whole party started for 
the station, which they reached in time to catch the train. 
Three hours’ steaming northward and they ran into the station 
at Aberdeen. The stage was just about starting for Banff. 
They got into it at once, and in three more hours of riding 
they reached that picturesque old town. 

Merely waiting long enough to engage rooms at the best hotel 
and deposit their luggage there, they took a carriage and drove 
to the house of Sir Alexander McKetchum, who was one of the 
most respected magistrates of Banff. 

Judge Merlin introduced himself and his party, produced his 
credentials, laid his charge, and presented his witnesses. 

To say that the worthy Scotch justice was astonished, amazed, 
would scarcely be to describe the state of panic and conster- 
nation into which he was thrown. 

Long he demurred and hesitated over the affair; again and 
again he questioned the accusers; over and over again he re- 
quired to hear the statement; and slowly and reluctantly at last 


AEREST OF LORD VINCENT AND FAUSTINA. 345 


he consented to issue the warrants for the apprehension of Lord 
Vincent, Alick Frisbie, and Faustina Dugald. 

Ishmael took care to see that these warrants were placed in 
the hands of an efficient policeman, with orders that he should 
proceed at once to the arrest of the parties named within them. 

And then our party returned to their hotel to await results. 


CHAPTER XU. 

ARREST OF LORD VINCENT AND FAUSTINA. 

Our plots fall short like darts that rash hands throw 
With an ill aim that have so far to go, 

Nor can we long discovery prevent, 

We deal too much among the innocent. 

— Howard, 

Lord Vincent was at Castle Cragg. Unable to absent him- 
self long from the siren who was the evil genius of his life, he 
had come down on a quiet visit to her. A very quiet visit it 
was, for he affected jealously to guard the honor of one who in 
truth had no honor to lose. The guilty who have much to con- 
ceal are often more discreet than the innocent who have noth- 
ing to fear. 

Mrs. MacDonald was still at the castle, playing propriety to 
the beauty. A very complacent person was Mrs. MacDonald. 

This precaution deceived no one. The neighboring gentry 
rightly estimated the domestic life at Castle Cragg and the 
character of its inmates, and refrained from calling there. 

This avoidance of her society by the county families galled 
Faustina. 

“ What do they mean by it I ” she said to herself. “ I am the 
Honorable Mrs. Dugald. Ah, they think I have lost myself. 
But they shall know better when they see me the Viscountess 
Vincent, and afterwards, no one knows how soon. Countess of 
Hurstmonceux and Marchioness of Banff! Ah, what a differ- 
ence that will make ! ” 

And Faustina consoled herself with anticipations of a bril- 
liant future, in which she would reign as a queen over these 
scornful prudes. But Faustina reckoned without Nemesis, 
her creditor. And Nemesis was at the door. 

It was a wild night. The snowstorm that had been threaten- 
ing all day long came down like avalanches whirled before 


346 SELF-EAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

the northern blast. It was a night in which no one would will- 
ingly go abroad ; when everyone keenly appreciated the comforts 
of shelter. 

Very comfortable on this evening was Mrs. Dugald’s boudoir. 
The crimson carpet and crimson curtains glowed ruddy red 
in the lamplight and firelight. The thundering dash of the sea 
upon the castle rock below came, softened into a soothing lul- 
laby, to this bower of beauty. 

Lord Vincent and Mrs. Dugald were seated at an elegant 
and luxurious little supper that would have satisfied the most 
fastidious and dainty epicure. Three courses had been removed. 
The fourth — ^the dessert — was upon the table. Hare flowers 
bloomed in costly vases; ripe fruits blushed in gilded baskets; 
rich wines sparkled in antique flasks. 

On one side of the table Faustina reclined gracefully in a 
crimson velvet easy-chair. The siren was beautifully dressed 
in the pure white that her sin-smutted soul, in its falsehood, 
affected. Her robe was of shining white satin, trimmed with 
soft white swan’s-down; fine white lace delicately veiled her 
snowy neck and arms; white lilies of the valley wreathed her 
raven hair and rested on her rounded bosom. 

She looked divine as her fool of a lover assured her. Yes, 
she looked “ divine ” — as the devil did when he appeared in the 
image of an angel of light. 

How did she dare, that guilty and audacious woman, to 
assume a dress that symbolized purity and humility? 

Lord Vincent lolled in the other armchair on the opposite 
side of the table, and from under his languid and half-tipsy 
eyelids cast passionate glances upon her. 

Mrs. Macdonald had withdrawn her chair from the table 
and nearer the fire, and had fallen asleep, or complacently 
affected to do so; for Mrs. MacDonald was the soul of compla- 
cency. Mrs. Dugald declared that she was a love of an old 
lady. 

‘^What a night it is outside! It is good to be here,” said 
Faustina, taking a bunch of ripe grapes and turning towards the 
fire. 

^‘Yes, my angel,” answered the viscount drowsily, regarding 
her from under his eyelids. “ What a bore it is ! ” 

“ What is a bore ? ” inquired Faustina, putting a ripe grape 
between her plump lips. 

“ That we are not married, my sweet.” 


AEREST OF LORD VINCENT AND FAUSTINA. 347 
bien! we soon shall be.” 

Then why do you keep me at such a distance, my angel ? ” 

Ah, bah ! think of something else ! ” 

The viscount poured out a bumper of rich port and raised 
it to his lips. 

Put that wine down, Malcolm, you have had too much al- 
ready.” 

He obeyed her and set the glass untasted on the board. 

“ That’s a duck ; now you shall have some grapes,” she said, 
and, with pretty, childish grace, she began to pick the ripest 
grapes from her bunch and to put them one by one into the 
noble noodle’s mouth. 

It is nice to be here, is it not, mon ami ? ” she smilingly 
asked. 

Yes, sweet angel ! ” he sighed languishingly. 

And when one thinks of the black dark and sharp cold and 
deep snow outside, and of travelers losing their way, and getting 
buried in the drifts and freezing to death, one feels so happy 
and comfortable in this warm, light room, eating fruit and 
drinking wine.” 

“ Yes, sweet angel ! but you won’t let me have any tnore 
wine,” said the viscount drowsily. 

^^You have had more than enough,” she smiled, putting a 
ripe grape between his gaping lips. 

Just as you say, sweet love! You know I am your slave. 
You do with me as you like,” he answered stupidly. 

“How,” said Faustina, her thoughts still running on the 
contrast between the storm without and the comfort within, 
“ what in this world would tempt one to leave the house on such 
a night as this ? ” 

“Nothing in this world, sweet love!” 

“ Malcolm, I do not think I would go out to-night, even in a 
close carriage, for a thousand pounds.” 

“ Ho, my angel, nor for ten thousand pounds should you go.” 

“ I like to think of the people that are out in the cold, 
though. It doubles my enjoyment,” she said, as she put another 
fine grape in his mouth. 

“Yes, sweet love!” he answered drowsily, closing his fingers 
on her hand and drawing her forcibly towards him. 

“ Ah ! stop ! ” she exclaimed, under her breath, and directing 
his attention to Mrs. MacDonald, who sat with her eyes closed 
in the easy-chair by the chimney corner. 


348 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

She is asleep,” said the viscount, in a hoarse whisper, 

^^No, no! you are not certain!” whispered Faustina. 

Come, come ! sit close to me ! ” exclaimed the viscount, with 
fierce vehemence, drawing her towards him. 

“You forget yourself! You are drunk, Malcolm!” cried 
Faustina, resisting his efforts. 

At that moment there came a rap at the door; it was a soft, 
low tap, yet it startled the viscount like a thunderclap. He 
dropped the hand of Faustina and demanded angrily: 

“ Who the fiend is there ? ” 

There was no answer, but the rap was gently repeated. 

“ Speak, then, can’t you ? Who the demon are you ? ” he cried. 

“Why don’t you tell them to come in?” said Faustina, in a 
displeased tone. 

“ Come in, then, set fire to you, whoever you are ! ” exclaimed 
Lord Vincent. 

The door was opened and old Cuthbert softly entered. 

“What the fiend do you want, sir?” haughtily demanded 
the viscount; for he had lately taken a great dislike to old 
Cuthbert, as well as to every respectable servant in the house, 
whose humble integrity was a tacit rebuke to his own dishonor ; 
and least of all would he endure the intrusion of one of them 
upon his interviews with Faustina. 

“ What brings you here, I say ? ” he repeated. 

“ An’ it please your lairdship, there are twa poleecemen down- 
stairs, wi’ a posse at their tails,” answered the old man, bowing 
humbly. 

“ What is their business here ? ” 

“ I dinna ken, me laird.” 

“ Something about that stupid murder, I suppose.” 

Faustina started; she was probably thinking of Katie. 

“I dinna think it is onything connected wi’ Ailsie’s death, 
me laird.” 

“What then? What mare’s nest have they found now, 
the stupid Dogberries?” 

“I canna tak’ upon mesel’ to say, me laird. But they are 
asking for yer lairdship and Mistress Dugald.” 

“ Me!” 

This exclamation came from Faustina, who turned deadly 
pale, and stared wildly at the speaker. Indeed her eyes and 
her face could be compared to nothing else but two great black 
balls set in a marble mask. 


Arrest of lord vikcent and Faustina. 349 
'' Me ! ’' 

Aye, mem, e’en just for yer ain sel’, and na ither, forbye 
it be his lairdship’s seF,” replied the old man, bowing with out- 
ward humility and secret satisfaction, for Cuthbert cordially 
disapproved and disliked Faustina. 

“ Horror ! I see how it is ! The dead body of the black 
woman has been cast up by the sea, as I knew it would be, and 
we shall be guillotined — no! — changed, hanged by the neck till 
we are dead!” she cried, wringing and twisting her hands in 
deadly terror. 

“ I wish to Heaven you may be, for an incorrigible fool ! ” 
muttered the viscount, in irrepressible anger; for, you see, his 
passion for this woman was not of a nature to preclude the 
possibility of his falling into a furious passion with her upon 
occasions like this. “ What madness has seized you now ? ” he 
continued. There is no danger ; you have no cause to be 
alarmed. They have probably come about the murder of Ailsie 
Dunbar, Satan burn them! Cuthbert, what are you lingering 
here for ? Go, see what it is ! ” 

The old man bowed lowly, and left the room. 

“Faustina!” exclaimed the viscount, as soon as Cuthbert 
had gone, “your folly will be the ruin of us both some day — 
will lead to discovery! Can you not let the black woman, as 
you call her, rest? Why will you be so indiscreet?” 

“ Oh, it is you who are indiscreet now,” exclaimed Faustina, 
clasping her hands and glancing towards Mrs. MacDonald, 
whose sleep seemed too deep to be real. 

“ Try to govern yourself, then ! ” said the viscount. 

“Ah, how can I, when I am quaking like a jelly with my 
terror ? ” 

^ “You should not undertake dangerous crimes unless you 
^ possess heroic courage,” said the viscount. 

“Mon Dieu! it is you who will ruin us!” cried Faustina, 
stamping her small feet and pointing to Mrs. MacDonald. 

The viscount laughed. 

And at this moment old Cuthbert re-entered the room. 

“Well?” asked Lord Vincent. 

“If you please, me laird, they say they maun see yer laird- 
ship’s seT and the leddy,” said the old man. 

“ What the blazes do they want with us? Was ever anything 
so insolently persistent? Go and tell the fellows that I cannot 
and will not see them to-night! And if they are disappointed. 


350 self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

it will serve them right for coming out on such a night as this. 
They must have been mad ! ” 

Verra weel, me laird. I’ll tell them/’ said the old man, 
departing. 

“ Compose yourself, Faustina, this business has no reference 
to you, I assure you. When they asked for us, they merely 
wished to see us to put some questions about the case of Ailsie 
Dunbar,” said the viscount, who had not the slightest suspicion 
that there was, or could be, a warrant out for his arrest. He 
fancied himself entirely secure in his crimes. He believed 
the negroes to be safe beyond the sea; sold into slavery in a 
land of which they did not even understand the language, and 
from which they never would be allowed to return. He be- 
lieved Claudia to be crushed under the conspiracy he had 
formed against her. He believed her father to be far away. 
And so he considered himself safe from all interruptions of 
his iniquities. What was there, in fact, to arouse his fears? 
What had he to dread ? 

Nothing, he thought. 

And, he was still laughing at Faustina’s weakness as he stood 
with his back to the fire, when once more the door opened and 
old Cuthbert reappeared, wearing a frightened countenance 
and followed by two policemen. 

Faustina shrieked with terror, covered her face with her 
hands, and shrunk back in her chair. Mrs. MacDonald, aroused 
by the shriek from her real or feigned sleep, opened her eyes 
and stared. 

But Lord Vincent, astonished and indignant, strode towards 
the door and demanded of his old servant : 

“ What means this intrusion, sir ? Did I not order you to say 
to these persons that I would not see them to-night? How 
dare you bring them to this room ? ” 

“’Deed, me laird, I could na help it! When I gi’e them 
yer lairdship’s message they e’en just bid me gang before, and 
sae they followed me up, pushing me to the right and left at 
their ain will,” said Cuthbert sullenly. 

Lord Vincent turned to the intruders and haughtily de- 
manded : 

“What is the meaning of this conduct, fellows? Were you 
not told that I would not see you to-night ? How dare you push 
yourselves up into the private apartment of these ladies ? Leave 
the room and the house instantly.” 


tn I'; 



I arrest you in the Queen’s name.” 

35 ^ 


Self-Raised 





AEEEST OF LORD VINCENT AND FAUSTINA. 351 


“We will leave the room and the house, my lord; but, when 
we do so, you and that lady must go with us,” said the taUer 
of the two policemen, advancing into the room. 

“ What ? ” demanded the viscount. 

“ Mon Dieu ! ” shrieked Faustina. 

“ Gracious, goodness, me, alive ! ” exclaimed Mrs. MacDonald. 

“You are wanted,” answered the policeman, whose name by 
the way was McRae. 

“ What do you mean, fellow ? Leave the room, I say, before 
I order my servant to kick you out!” fiercely cried the vis- 
count. 

The policeman immediately stepped up to the side of his 
lordship and laid his hand upon his shoulder, saying: 

“ Malcolm Dugald, Lord Vincent, you are my prisoner.” 

“ Your prisoner, you scoundrel ! hands off, I say ! ” cried the 
viscount. 

“ I arrest you in the Queen’s name, for the abduction and 
selling into slavery of the three negroes, Catherine Mortimer, 
James Mortimer, and Sarah Sims,” said McRae, taking a 
firmer hold of his captive. 

“Let go my collar, you infernal villain, and show me your 
warrant 1 ” thundered Lord Vincent, wrenching himself from 
the grasp of the policeman. 

McRae calmly produced his warrant and placed it in the 
hands of the viscount. 

Lord Vincent, astonished, terrified, but defiant, held the 
document up before his dazed eyes and tried to read it. But 
though he held it up with both hands close to his blanched face, 
it trembled so in his grasp that he could not trace the characters 
written upon it. 

While he held it thus, McRae slyly drew something from 
his own pocket, approached the viscount and — click! click — 
the handcuffs were fastened upon the wrists of his lordship ! 

Down fluttered the warrant from the relaxed fingers of the 
viscount, while his face, exposed to view, seemed set in a deadly 
panic as he gazed upon his captor. 

“ Look to him, Ross,” said McRae, addressing his comrade and 
pointing to the viscount. 

Then he stepped up to the cowering form of Mrs. Dugald, 
who had shrunk to the very back of her deep velvet chair. Lay- 
ing his hand upon her shoulder he said : 

“ Faustina Dugald, you are my prisoner. I arrest you, in the 


352 SELF-EAISED ; OE, FEOM THE DEPTHS. 

Queen’s name, upon the charge of having aided and abetted 
Lord Vincent in the abduction of ” 

“Oh, horror! let me go, you horrid brute!” cried Faustina, 
suddenly finding her voice, interrupting the officer with her 
shrieks and springing from under his hand. 

She rushed towards the passage door with the blind impulse 
of fiight and tore it open, only to find herself stopped by a posse 
of constables drawn up without. They had come in force strong 
enough to overcome resistance, if necessary. 

“Give yourself up, Faustina, It is the best thing you can 
do,” said the viscount. 

She stared wildly like a hunted hare, and then turned and 
made a dash towards her bedroom door, but only to be caught 
in the arms of McKae, who stepped suddenly thither to inter- 
cept her mad flight. 

He held her firmly with one hand, while with the other he 
drew something from his pocket and suddenly snapped the hand- 
cuffs upon her wrists. 

She burst into passionate tears. 

“I am sorry to do this, madam, but you forced me to it,” 
said McRae gravely and kindly. 

She was a pitiable object as she stood there, guilty, degraded, 
and powerless. Her wreath of lilies had been knocked off and 
trampled under foot in the scuffie. The bouquet of lilies that 
rested on her bosom was crushed. Her lace and swan’s-down 
trimmings were tom. Her hair was disheveled, her face pale, 
and her eyes streaming with tears. 

“ Why do they make me a prisoner ? ” she sobbed. 

“ I told you, madam, it was for your shaire in the abduction 
of ” 

“ Abduction ! abduction ! I don’t know what you mean by 
abduction! I did not kill the black negro person! I did not 
put her into the sea! It was Lord Vincent! I never helped 
him! Ho, not at all ! He would not let me ! And if he would, 
I should not have done it! He did it all himself! And it is 
cruel to make a poor, small, little woman suffer for what a big 
man does ! ” she cried, amid piteous tears and sobs. 

“Faustina! Faustina! what are you saying?” exclaimed 
the viscount, in consternation. 

“The truth, my lord viscount; you know it! The truth, 
messieurs, I assure you! Lord Vincent killed the black negro 
woman and threw her into the sea! And I had nothing to do 


ARREST OF LORD VINCENT AND FAUSTINA. 353 


with it I I did not even know it until all was over ! And I will 
tell you all about it, messieurs, if you will only take these 
dreadful things off my poor, little, small wrists and let me go! 
It is cruel, messieurs, to fetter and imprison a poor, smal] 
little woman, for a big man’s crime! Let me go free, mes- 
sieurs, and I will tell you all about him,” pleaded this weeping 
creature, who for the sake of her own liberty was willing to give 
her lover up to death. 

But you need not be surprised at this ; for I told you long ago 
that there can be no honor, faith, or love among thieves, let the 
biographers of the Jack Shepherds and Nancy Sykeses say what 
they please to the contrary. “ Do men gather grapes of thorns, 
or figs of thistles ? ” The criminal is the most solitary creature 
upon earth; he has no ties — for the ties of guilt are nothing; 
they snap at the lightest breath of self-interest. 

Faustina’s plea dismayed her accomplice and disgusted her 
captor. 

Madam,” said the latter, you had better hold your peace 
Your words criminate yourself as well as Lord Vincent.” 

How do they criminate myself ? Oh, mon Dieu ! what shalv 
I do, sinc^ even my denials are made to tell against me ! ” sh( 
whimpered, wringing her hands. 

“Faustina, be silent!” said the viscount sternly. 

“ My lord, we are ready to remove you,” said McKae, advanc- 
ing toward the viscount. 

“ Where do you intend to take us then ? ” demanded the vis- 
count, with a blush of shame, though with a tone of defiance. 

“ To the police station house, for the night. In the morning 
you will be brought before the magistrate for examination.” 

“ To your beast of a station house ? ” said the viscount. 

The policeman bowed. 

“ Ah, mon Dieu ! will he take us out into the snow to-night ? 
I cannot go! I should freeze to death! I should perish in the 
storm! It would be murder!” cried Faustina, wringing her 
hands. 

“You see it would be barbarous to drag a lady out in this 
horrible weather. Can you not leave her here for the night? 
and if you consider yourself responsible for her safe-keeping, 
can you not remain and guard her ? ” inquired his lordship, 
speaking, however, quite as much, or even more, for himself than 
for Faustina ; for he was well aware that, if she were left, 
he would be also left. 


354 self-baised; ob, fbom the depths. 

“ My lord, it is impossible. I could not be answerable for my 
prisoner’s safety if she were permitted to remain here all night, 
no matter how well guarded she might be. It was only a few 
weeks ago that a prisoner — a young girl she was, charged with 
poisoning — ^persuaded me to hold her in custody through the 
night in her own chamber. I did so, placing a policeman on 
guard on the outside of each door. And yet, during the night 
she succeeded in making her escape down a secret staircase and 
through a subterranean passage, and got clear off. It was in 
just such an ancient place as this, my lord. I came near losing 
my office by it; and I made a resolution then never to trust 
a prisoner of mine out of my sight until I got him or her, as 
the case might be, safe under lock and key in my station house.” 

But, mon Dieu ! mon Dieu ! what will become of me ? ” 
wailed Faustina. 

^‘It will kill her. She is very tender,” urged Lord Vincent. 

‘‘Your lordship may order your own close carriage for her 
use. She may wrap up in all her furs. And though she may 
still suffer a good deal from the long, cold ride, she will not 
freeze, I assure you,” said McEaa 

Ah, but what do you take me for at all ? I say that I did 
not kill the black negro woman ; Lord Vincent did it.” 

Madam, neither you nor my lord are accused of murder,” 
said McKae. 

Ah ! what, then, do you accuse us of ? ” 

You will hear at the magistrate’s office, madam,” said the po- 
liceman, losing patience. 

“I say, what — ^whatever it was. Lord Vincent did it I” 

‘^Faustina, be silent! If no remnant of good faith leads 
you to spare me, spare yourself at least,” said the viscount. 

“Will you order your carriage?” said McRae. 

“ Cuthbert, go down and h^ve the close carriage brought 
around. Put the leopard skins inside and bottles of hot water,” 
ordered the viscount. 

“Madam, you had better summon your maid and have your 
wrappings brought to you, and anything else you may wish to 
take with you,” advised McRae. 

“ Oh, mon Dieu ! mon Dieu ! must I leave this beautiful 
place to go to a horrid prison. Oh. mon Dieu, mon Dieu ! ” 
wept Faustina, wringing her hands. 

“ Shall I ring for your maid ? ” inquired McRae. 

“ No, you monster ! ” shrieked Faustina. “ Do you think I 


AEEEST OF LORD VINCENT AND FAUSTINA. 355 


want Desiree, whose ears I boxed this morning, to come here to 
see me marched off to prison? She would be glad, the beast! 
she would laugh in her sleeve, the wretch! Madame MacDon- 
ald, will you get my bonnet and sables?” she said, turning to 
her companion. 

“Yes, my dear, suffering angel, I will do all that you wish 
me to do. Ah! you remind me of your countrywoman. Queen 
Marie Antoinette, when she was dragged from the luxurious 
Tuileries to the dreary temple,” whined sympathizing Compla- 
cency. 

“ Good Heaven ! woman, do not speak of her She was guil- 
lotined!” cried Faustina, with a shiver of terror. 

“ But you shall not be, my dear ; you shall come out clear ; 
and they who have accused you shall be made ashamed,” said 
Mrs. MacDonald, as she passed into Faustina’s dressing room. 

Presently she came forth, bearing a quilted silk bonnet, a 
velvet sack, a sable cloak, a muff and cuffs, and warm gloves 
and fur-lined boots, and what not; all of which she helped 
Faustina to put on. While she was kneeling on the floor and 
putting on the beauty’s boots she said : 

“ I think some of these men might have the modesty to turn 
their hacks, if they canna leave the room. Ah, my poor dear! 
now you remind me of my own countrywoman, poor Queen Mary 
Stuart, when she complained on the scaffold of having to un- 
dress before so many men! How you have to dress before so 
many.” 

“ Oh, God, you will be the death of me, with your guillo- 
tined women ! You turn my flesh to jelly, and my bones to gris- 
tle, and my heart to water!” cried Faustina, with a dreadful 
shudder, as she rose to her feet, quite ready, as far as dress 
was concerned, for her journey. 

“Will my poor, dear, suffering angel have anything else?” 
said Mrs. MacDonald. 

“ Yes. Oh, dear, that I should have to leave this sweet place 
for a nasty prison! Yes, you may get together all that fruit 
and nuts and cake and wine, and don’t forget the bonbons, and 
have them put in the carriage, for I don’t believe I could get 
such things in the horrid prison! And, stay — ^put me a white 
wrapper and a lace cap in my little night-bag; and stop — ^put 
that last novel of Paul de Kock in also. I will be as comfortable 
as I can make myself in that beast of a place. ” 

“ Blessed angel ! what a mind you have ; what philosophy ; 


356 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

what fortitude! You now remind me of your illustrious com- 
patriot, Madame Koland, who, when dragged from her elegant 
home to the dreadful prison of the Conciergerie, and knowing 
that in a few days she must be dragged from that to the scaffold, 
yet sent for her books, her music, her birds, and her flowers, 
that she might make the most of the time left,” said Mrs. Mac- 
Donald, as she zealously gathered up the desired articles. 

Silence ! I shall dash my brains out if you speak to me of 
another headless woman!” shrieked Faustina, stopping both 
her ears. 

Old Cuthbert put his head in to say that the carriage was 
ready. Lord Vincent ordered him to load himself with the 
luxuries that had been provided for Faustina and put them into 
the carriage, and then in returning to fetch him his overshoes, 
cloak, and hat. All of these orders were duly obeyed. 

When all was ready Lord Vincent shook hands with Mrs. 
MacDonald was saying: 

“ We must all bow to the law, madam; but this is only a pass- 
ing cloud. We shall be liberated soon. And I hope we shall 
find you here when we return.” 

“Ye may be sure of that, my lord. And may Heaven grant 
you a speedy deliverance,” she answered. 

Faustina next came up to bid her good-by. 

“Good-by! Good-by! my sweet, suffering angel. Bear up 
under your aflSlictions; fortify your mind by thinking of the 
martyred queens and heroines who have preceded you,” said 
Mrs. MacDonald, weeping as she embraced Faustina. 

“ Good Heaven, I shall think of none of them ! I shall think 
only of myself and my deliverance ! ” said Faustina, breaking 
from her. 

They went downstairs, marshaled by the policemen. They 
entered the carriage, two policemen riding inside with them, 
and one on the box beside the coachman. And thus they com- 
menced their stormy night journey. 


A BITTER NIGHT. 


357 


CHAPTER XLII. 

A BITTER NIGHT. 

St. Agnes’ Eve — ah, bitter chill it ■was! 

The owl, for all his feathers, was acold. 

The hare limped trembling thro’ the frozen grass; 

And silent was the flock in woolly fold! 

—Keats. 

A freezing night. Faustina shook as with an ague-fit, and 
her teeth chattered like a pair of castanets, as she crouched down 
in one corner of the back seat and huddled all her wrappings 
close about her. But the cold still seemed to penetrate through 
all her furs and velvets and woolens and enter the very man-ow 
of her bones. 

Beside her sat the viscount, silent, grim, and still, as though 
he were congealed to ice. Before her sat the two policemen, 
well wrapped up in their greatcoats and thick shawls. 

All were silent except Faustina. She shook and moaned and 
chattered incessantly. Such a mere animal was this wretched 
woman that she was quite absorbed in her present sufferings. 
While enduring this intense cold she could not look forward to 
the terrors of the future. 

It’s insufferable ! ” she exclaimed, fiercely stamping her feet ; 

can you not make this beast of a carriage closer, then ? My 
flesh is stone and my blood is ice, I tell you.” 

One window had been left open a little way, to let a breath 
of air into the carriage, which, crowded with four persons, was 
otherwise stifling. But the viscount now raised both his fet- 
tered hands and closed up the window. The arrangement did 
not prove satisfactory. It deprived the sufferers of air without 
making them any warmer. Faustina shook and moaned and 
chattered all the same. 

“ Oh, wretches ! ” she exclaimed, in furious disgust ; ** open 
ihe window again ! I am suffocated ! I am poisoned ! They 
have all been eating garlic and drinking whisky ! ” 

The window was opened at her desire, but as they were then 
crossing the narrow isthmus of rock that connected the castle 
steep with the land, the wind, from that exposed position, was 
cutting sharp, and drove into the aperture the stinging snow, 
which entered the skin like needle points. 


358 self-eaised; ok, from the depths. 

“ Ah, shut it ! shut it ! It kills me ! It is infamous to treat 
a poor little lady so ! ” she cried, bursting into tears. 

Again the window was closed ; but not for any length of time. 
Apparently she could neither bear it open nor shut. So, shak- 
ing, moaning, and complaining, the poor creature was taken 
through that long and bitter night journey which ended at last 
only at the station house of Banff. 

Half dead with cold, she was lifted out of the carriage by the 
two policemen who stood upon the sidewalk, where she remained, 
shaking, chattering, and weeping tears that froze upon her 
cheeks as they fell. 

She could see nothing in that dark street but the gloomy 
building before her, dimly lighted by its iron lamp above the 
doorway. ; 

There she remained till the viscount was handed out. 

“ Cuthbert,” said his lordship to the old man, who had exposed 
himself to the severe weather of this night and driven the car- 
riage for the sake of being near his master as long as possible, 
“ Cuthbert, take the carriage around to the ‘ Highlander ’ and 
put up there for the night. We shall want it to take us back 
to the castle to-morrow, after this ridiculous farce is over.” 

Verra weel, me laird,” replied old Cuthbert, touching his 
hat with all the more deference because his master was suffer- 
ing degradation. 

“Ah! is it so? Will we really get back to the castle to-mor- 
row?” whimpered Faustina, shaking, chattering, and wringing 
her hands. 

“ Of course we will,” replied his lordship. 

“ Ah, but how shall I get through the night ? I must have a 
good fire and a comfortable bed, and something warm to drink. 
Will you see to it, Malcolm? ” she whiningly inquired. 

“ Don’t be a fool I ” was the gentlemanly reply ; for the vis- 
count burned with half-suppressed rage against the woman 
whose fatal beauty had led him into all this disgrace. 

She burst into a passion of tears. 

“ That is the reward I get for all my love 1 ” she exclaimed. 

“Faustina, for your own sake, if not for any other’s, exer- 
cise some discretion ! ” exclaimed the viscount angrily. 

“ Villain! ” she screamed, in fury, “ I had no discretion when 
I listened to you ! ” 

“ I wish to Heaven you had had then ! I should not have been 
in this mess,” he replied. 


A BITTER NIGHT. 359 

Ah ! ” she hissed. “ If my hands were not fettered I would 
tear your eyes ! ” 

“ Sweet angel ! ” sneered the viscount, in mockery and self- 
mockery. 

“ Thsche ! ” she hissed, let me at him ! ” 

The viscount laughed, a hard, bitter, scornful laugh. 

And at it they went, criminating and recriminating, until 
the empty carriage was driven away, and the policemen took 
them by the shoulders and pushed them into the station house. 

They found themselves in a large stone hall, with iron-grated 
windows. It was partially warmed with a large, rusty stove, 
around which many men of the roughest cast were gathered, 
smoking, talking, and laughing. The walls were furnished with 
rude benches, upon which some men sat, some reclined, and 
some lay at full length. The stone floor was wet with the slop 
of the snow that had been brought in by so many feet and had 
melted. In one of these slops lay a woman, dead drunk. 

“Ah! Good God! I cannot stay here!” cried Faustina, 
gathering up her skirts, as well as she could with her fettered 
hands, and looking around in strong disgust. 

The viscount laughed in derision; he was angry, desperate, 
and he rejoiced in her discomfiture. 

“Eh, Saunders! take these two women in the women’s 
room,” said McRae, beckoning a tall, broad-shouldered, red- 
headed Scot to his assistance. 

“ Hech ! it will take twa o’ the strongest men here to lift yon 
lassie,” replied the man, lumbering slowly along towards the 
prostrate woman, and trying to raise her. If he failed in lift- 
ing her, he succeeded in waking her, and he was saluted for his 
pains with a volley of curses, to which he replied with a shake 
or two. 

“ Oh, horror ! I will not stay here ! ” cried Faustina, stamp- 
ing with rage. 

“ Attend to her, Christie. Dunlap, help Saunders to remove 
that woman,” said McRae. 

Two of the policemen succeeded in raising the fallen woman, 
and leading her between them into an adjoining room. The 
man addressed as “ Christie ” would have taken Faustina by the 
arm, and led her after them, but that she fiercely shook herself 
from his grasp. 

“ Follow then and ye like, lass ; but gae some gait ye maun, 
ye ken,” said the man good-naturedly. 


360 self-eaised; or, from the defths. 

She glanced around the dreary room, upon the grated win- 
dows, the sloppy floor, the rusty stove, and the wretched men, 
and Anally seemed to think that she could not do better than 
to leave such a repulsive scene. 

Go along, then, and I will follow, only keep your vile hands 
off me,” said Faustina, gathering up her dainty raiment and 
stepping carefully after her leader. As she did so she turned 
a last look upon Lord Vincent. The viscount had thrown him- 
self upon a corner of one of the benches, where he sat, with his 
fettered hands folded together, and his head bent down upon his 
breast, as if he were in deep despair. 

Imbecile ! ” was the complimentary good-night thrown by 
his angel, as she passed out of the hall into the adjoining room. 
This — the women’s room — was in all respects similar to the 
men’s hall, being furnished with the like grated windows, rusty 
iron stove, and rude benches. Along, on these benches, or on 
the floor, were scattered wretched women in every attitude of 
self-abandonment; some in the stupor of intoxication; some 
in the depths of sorrow; some in stony despair; some in reck- 
less defiance. 

The men who had come in with the drunken woman de- 
posited her on one of the benches, from which she quickly 
rolled to the floor, where she lay dead to all that was passing 
around her. Her misfortune was greeted with a shout of 
laughter from the reckless denizens of this room ; but that shout 
was turned into a deafening yell when their eyes fell upon 
Faustina’s array. 

^‘Eh, sirs! wha the deil hae we here fra the ball?” they 
cried, gathering around her with curiosity. 

Off, you wretches ! ” screamed Faustina, stamping at them. 

‘^Hech! but she hae a temper o’ her ain, the ^uean,” said 
one. 

Ou, aye, just ! It will be for sticking her lad under the ribs 
she is here,” surmised another. 

Eh, sirs, how are the mighty fa’en ! ” exclaimed a third, as 
they closed around her, and began to closely examine her rich 
dress. 

Rabble ! how dare you ? ” screamed Faustina, fiercely twitch- 
ing herself away from them. 

“Eh! the braw furs and silks! the town doesna often see 
the loike o’ them,” said the first speaker, lifting up the corner 
of the rich sable cloak. 


A BrrTER NIGHT. 


361 

Wretch, let alone shrieked Faustina, stamping fran- 
tically. 

The uproar brought Policeman Christie to the scene. 

“Take me away from this place directly, you beast! How 
dare you bring me among such wretches ? ” screamed the poor 
creature. 

“ My lass, I hae na commission to remove you. I dinna ken 
what ye hae done to bring yoursel’ here; but here ye maun 
bide till the morn,” said Christie kindly and composedly. 

“ I will not, I say ! What have I done to be placed among 
these vile wretches ? ” she persisted, stamping. 

“I dinna ken, lassie, as I telled ye before; but joodging by 
your manners, I suld say ye hae guided yoursel’ an unco’ ill 
gait. But howe’er that will be, here ye maun bide till the morn. 
And gin ye will heed guid counsel, ye’ll baud your tongue,” 
said Christie, at the same time good-naturedly setting down the 
hamper that contained Faustina’s luxuries. She did not want 
it. She threw herself down upon one of the benches and burst 
into a passion of tears. 

The women gathered around the hamper, and quickly tore 
off the lid and made themselves acquainted with its contents. 

But Faustina did not mind. She was too deeply distressed 
to care what they did. The contents of the hamper were now of 
no use to her. The “good fire, the comfortable bed, the warm 
beverage” that she had vehemently demanded were unattain- 
able, she knew, and she cared for nothing else now. 

While Faustina, regardless that her famished fellow-pris- 
oners were devouring her cakes, fruits, and wine, gave herself 
up to passionate lamentations, another scene was going on in 
the men’s hall. 

Lord Vincent sat gnawing his nails and “glowering” upon 
the floor in his comer. From time to time the door opened, 
letting in a gust of wind, sleet, and snow, and a new party 
of prisoners; but the viscount never lifted his eyes to observe 
them. 

At length, however, he looked up and beckoned Constable 
McBae to his side. 

“ Here, you, fellow ! I would like to see your warrant again. 
I wish to know who is my accuser.” 

“Judge Kandolph Merlin, my lord, of the United States 
Supreme Court,” answered McBae, once more taking out his 
warrant and submitting it to the inspection of his prisoner. 


362 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

Ha, ha, ha ! ” laughed the viscount affectedly. “ Randolph 
Merlin! He has come to the country, I suppose, to look after 
his daughter ; and finding that these negroes are among the miss- 
ing, has pretended to get up this charge against me! It will 
not answer his purpose, however. And I only wonder that any 
magistrate in his senses should have issued a warrant for the 
apprehension of a nobleman upon his unsupported charge.” 

“Pray excuse me, my lord, but the charge was not unsup- 
ported,” said McRae respectfully. 

“ How — not unsupported ? ” 

“ Ho, my lord. The judge had for witnesses the three 
negroes, and ” 

“ The three negroes ! ” exclaimed the viscount, recoiling in 
amazement; but quickly recovering his presence of mind, he 
added : “ Oh ! aye ! of course ! they ran off with my plate, and 

I suppose they have succeeded in effectually secreting it and 
eluding discovery. And now I suspect they have been looked 
up by their old master and persuaded to appear as false wit- 
nesses against me. Ha, ha, ha! what a weak device! I am 
amazed that any magistrate should have ventured upon such 
testimony to have issued a warrant for my apprehension.” 

“ I beg your pardon, my lord ; but theirs was not the only 
testimony. There were several gentlemen present, fellow-voy- 
agers of Judge Merlin, who testified to the finding of the negroes 
in a state of slavery in Cuba; their testimony corroborates 
that of the negroes,” said McRae. 

Lord Vincent went pale as death. 

“ What does that mean ? Oh, I see ! it is all a conspiracy,” he 
said, with an ineffectual effort at derision. 

But at that moment there was a bustle outside ; the door was 
thrown open, and another prisoner was brought in by two po- 
licemen. 

“ What is the matter ? Who is it now ? ” inquired McRae, 
going forward. 

“ We have got him, sir,” said a constable. 

“ Who ? ” demanded McRae. 

“ The murderer, sir ! ” answered the policeman, at the same 
moment dragging into view the assassin of Ailsie Dunbar, the 
ex- valet of Lord Vincent, Alick Frisbie. 

Heavily fettered, his knees knocking together, pale and trem- 
bling, the wretch stood in the middle of the floor. 

“ Where did you take him ? ” inquired McRae. 


A BITTER NIGHT. 


363 


At the ^ Bagpipes/ Peterhead,” replied the successful captor. 

“Pray, upon what charge is he arrested?” inquired the vis- 
count, in a shaking voice, that he tried in vain to make steady. 

“ A trifle of murder, among other fancy performances,” 
said McRae. 

At this moment Frisbie caught sight of his master and set 
up a howl, through which his words were barely audible: 

“ Oh, my lord, you will never betray me ! You will never be 
a witness against me! You will never hang me! You promised 
that you would not ! ” 

“Hold your tongue, you abominable fool! What the fiend 
are you talking about ? Do you forget yourself, sir ? ” roared 
the viscount, furious at the fatal folly of his weak accomplice. 

“ Oh, no, my lord, I do not forget myself ! I do not forget 
anything. I beg your lordship’s pardon for speaking, and I 
will swear to be as silent as the grave, if your lordship will only 
promise not to ” 

“ Will you stop short where you are, and not open your mouth 
again, you insufferable idiot ! ” thundered the viscount. 

Frisbie gulped his last words, whined and crouched like a 
whipped hound, and subsided into silence. 

And soon after this McRae and the other officers who were 
off duty for the remainder of the night went home and the doors 
were closed. 

A miserable night it was to all within the station house, and 
especially to that guilty man and woman who had been torn 
from their luxurious home and confined in this dreary prison. 
Al l that could revolt, disgust, and utterly depress human na- 
ture seemed gathered within its walls. Here were drunkenness, 
deadly sickness, and reckless and shameless profanity, all of 
the most loathsome character. And all this was excruciating 
torture to a man like Lord Vincent, who, if he was not refined, 
was at least excessively fastidious. There was no rest; every 
few minutes the door was opened to receive some new prisoner, 
some inebriate, or some night-brawler picked up by the watch, 
and brought in, and then would ensue another scene of confu- 
sion. 

An endless night it seemed, yet it came to an end at last. 
The morning slowly dawned. The pale, cold, gray light of 
th^ winter day looked sadly through the falling snow into the 
closely-grated, dusty windows. And upon what a scene it 
looked. Men were there, scattered over the floor and upon the 


364 SELF-RAISED ; OK, FROM THE DEATHS. 

benches in every stage of intoxication; some stupid, some reck- 
less, some despairing; some sound asleep; some waking up and 
yawning, and some walking about impatiently. 

As the day broadened and the hour arrived for the sitting 
of the police magistrate, the policemen came in and marched 
off the crowd of culprits to a hall in another part of the build- 
ing, where they were to be examined. Even the women were 
marched out from the inner room after the men. It seemed 
that all the lighter offenders were to be disposed of first. 

Lord Vincent and Frisbie were left alone in charge of one 
officer. 

“ When are we to be examined ? ” demanded the viscount 
haughtily of this man. 

“ I dinna ken,” he answered, composedly lighting his pipe and 
smoking away. 

Lord Vincent paced up and down the wet and dirty stone 
fioor, until at length the door opened and McRae, the officer 
who arrested him, entered. 

“Ah, you have come at last. I wish to be informed why we 
have been left here all this time? Everyone else has been re- 
moved,” exclaimed the viscount. 

“ My lord, those poor creatures who were brought here dur- 
ing the night were not arrested for any grave offense. Some 
were brought in only to keep them from perishing in the snow- 
storm, and others for drunkenness or disorder. The sitting 
police magistrate disposes of them. They will mostly be dis- 
charged. But you, my lord, are here upon a heavy charge, and 
you are to go before Sir Alexander McKetchum.” 

“ Why, then, do you not conduct me there ? Do you mean to 
keep me in this beastly place all day ? ” 

“ My lord, your examination is fixed for ten o’clock ; it is only 
nine now,” said McRae, passing on to the inner room, from 
which he presently appeared with Faustina. 

Wretched did the poor creature look with her pale and tear- 
stained face, her reddened eyes and disheveled hair; and her 
rich and elegant white evening dress with its ample skirts and 
lace flounces bedraggled and bedabbled with all the filth of the 
station house. 

“ I have had a horrid night I I have been in worse than pur- 
gatory. I have not closed my eyes. I wish I was dead. See 
what you have brought me to, 1 Malcolm! And — only look at 
my dress ! ” sobbed the woman. 


A BITTER NIGHT. 


365 

Your dress ! That is just exactly what I am looking at. A 
pretty dress that to be seen in. What the demon do you think 
people will take you for ? ” sneered his lordship. 

do not know! I do not care! poor trampled lily that I 

am! ” 

^^Poor trampled fool! Why didn’t you change that Merry 
Andrew costume for something plainer and decenter before you 
left the castle ? ” 

“ Why didn’t you tell me to do it, then ? I never thought of 
it. Besides, I didn’t know what this beast of a statio-n house 
was like. No carpets, no beds, no servants. And I’m dying 
for want of them all. And now I must have my breakfast. 
Why don’t you order it, Malcolm ? ” she whimpered. 

“I am afraid they do not provide breakfasts any more than 
they do other luxuries for the guests of this establishment,” 
replied the viscount, with a malignant laugh. 

But I shall starve, then,” said the poor little animal, burst- 
ing into tears. 

“I cannot help it,” replied the viscount, very much in the 
same tone as if he had said : I do not care.” 

But here McRae spoke: 

“ My lord, there is nearly an hour left before we shall go be- 
fore the magistrate. If you wish, therefore, you can send out to 
some hotel and order your breakfast brought to you here.” 

Thank you ; I will avail myself of your suggestion. Whom 
can I send ? ” inquired the viscount. 

Christie, you can go for his lordship,” said McRae to his 
subordinate, who had just entered the hall. 

Christie came forward to take the order. 

“What will you have?” inquired Lord Vincent, curtly ad- 
dressing his “sweet angel.” 

“ Oh, some strong coffee with cream, hot rolls with fresh but- 
ter, and broiled moor hen with currant jelly,” replied Faustina. 

Lord Vincent wrote his order down with a pencil on a leaf 
of his tablets, tore it out and gave it to Christie, saying: 

“ Take this to the ^ Highlander ’ and tell them to send the 
breakfast immediately. Also inquire for my servant, Cuth- 
bert Allan, who is stopping there, and order him to put my 
horses to the carriage and bring them around here for my use.” 

The man bowed civilly and went out to do this errand. 

In about half an hour he returned, accompanied by a waiter 
from the “Highlander,” bringing the breakfast piled up on a 


366 self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

large tray, unfolded the cloth and spread it upon one of the 
benches and arranged the breakfast upon it. 

^^Did you see my servant?” inquired Lord Vincent of his 
messenger. 

Yes, me laird, and gi’e him your order. The carriage will 
be round,” replied the man. 

As the viscount and his companion drew their bench up to 
the other bench upon which their morning meal was laid, Mr. 
Frisbie, who had been sitting in a remote corner of the hall 
with his head buried on his knees, got up and humbly stood 
before them, as if silently offering his services to wait at table. 

“ He here ! ” exclaimed Faustina, in amazement. 

Yes, he is in the same boat with us. Go sit down, Frisbie; 
we don’t need you,” said Lord Vincent. And the ex- valet re- 
tired and crouched in his corner like a repulsed dog. 

Trouble did not take away the appetite of Mrs. Dugald. It 
does not ever have that effect upon constitutions in which the 
animal nature largely preponderates. She ate, drank, and wept, 
and so got through a very hearty repast. Lord Vincent, having 
swallowed a single cup of coffee, which constituted the whole of 
his breakfast, sat and watched her performances with uncon- 
cealed scorn. 

Before F austina got through Officer McRae began impatiently 
to consult his large silver turnip. 

It is time to go,” he said at length. 

But Faustina continued to suck the bones of the moor hen, 
between her trickling tears. 

“We must not keep the magistrate waiting,” said McRae. 

But Faustina continued to suck and cry. 

“I am sorry to hurry you, madam; but we must go,” said 
McRae decisively. 

“Ah, bah! what a beastly place! where a poor little lady 
is not permitted to eat her breakfast in peace ! ” she exclaimed, 
throwing down the delicate bone at which she had been nibbling, 
and fiercely starting up. 

As she had not removed her bonnet and cloak during the 
whole night she was quite ready. 

As they were going out Lord Vincent pointed to Frisbie and 
inquired : 

“ Is not that fellow to go? ” 

“Ho; he is in upon a heavier charge, you know, my lord. 
Your examination precedes his,” said M'^Rae, as he conducted 


FEUITS OF CKIME. 


367 

his prisoners into the street, leaving Mr. Frisbie to solace him- 
self with the remnants of Faustina’s breakfast, guarded by- 
Christie. 

The viscount’s carriage was drawn up before the door. 

Is it hame, me laird ? ” inquired old Cuthbert, touching his 
hat, from the coachman’s box. 

“ISTo. You are to take your directions from this person,” 
replied his lordship sullenly, as he hurried into the carriage to 
conceal himself and his fettered wrists from the passers-by. 

McRae put Mrs. Dugald into the carriage, and then jumped up 
and seated himself on the box beside the coachman, and di- 
rected him where to drive. 

The snow was still falling fast, and the streets were nearly 
blocked up. 

CHAPTER XLin. 

FRUITS OF CRIME. 

Ay, think upon the cause — 

Forget it not: when you lie down to rest, 

Let it be black among your dreams; and when 
The morn returns, so let it stand between 
The sun and you, as an ill-omened cloud, 

Upon a summer’s day of festival. 

—Byron. 

After a drive of about twenty minutes through the narrow 
streets the carriage stopped before the town hall. McRae 
jumped down from the box and assisted his prisoners to alight. 

^‘Will I wait, me laird?” inquired old Cuthbert, in a de- 
sponding tone. 

Certainly, you old blockhead ! ” was the courteous reply of 
the viscount, as he followed his conductor into the building. 

McRae, who had Mrs. Ihigald on his arm, led the way through 
a broad stone passage, blocked up with the usual motley crowd 
of such a place, into an anteroom, half filled with prisoners, 
guarded by policemen, and waiting their turn for examination, 
and thence into an inner room, where, in a railed-off compart- 
ment at the upper end, and behind a long table, sat the magis- 
trate, Sir Alexander McKetchum, and his clerk, attended by 
several law officers. 

“Here are the prisoners, your worship,” said McRae, ad- 
vancing with his charge to the front of the table. 


3G8 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

Sir Alexander looked up. He was a tall, raw-boned, sinewy 
old Gael, with high features, a lively, red face, blue eyes, white 
hair and side whiskers, and an accent as broad as CuthberFs 
own. He was apparently a man of the people. 

“ Malcolm, lad, I am verra sorry to see your father’s son here 
on such a charge,” he said. 

I am here by your warrant, sir ! it is altogether a very ex- 
traordinary proceeding ! ” said the viscount haughtily. 

“ Hot mare extraordinary than painful, lad,” said the magis- 
trate. 

Who are my accusers, sir ? ” demanded the viscount, as if 
he was in ignorance of them. 

Ye sail sune see, me laird. Johnstone, have the witnesses 
in this case arrived ? ” he inquired, turning to one of his officers. 

Yes, your worship.” 

“ Then bring them in.” 

Johnstone departed upon his errand; and the magistrate 
turned his eyes upon the prisoners before him. 

“ Eh, it is a bonnie lassie, to be here on such a charge,” he 
muttered to himself, as he looked at Faustina, standing, trem- 
bling and weeping, before him. Then beckoning the offidfer 
who had the prisoners in charge: 

“ McRae, mon, accommodate the lady with a chair. Why 
did ye put fetters on her? Surely there was no need of them.” 

There was need, your worship. The * lady ’ resisted the 
warrant, and fought like a Bess o’ Bedlam,” said McRae, as he 
set a chair for Faustina. 

“ Puir bairn ! puir, ill-guided bairn ! ” muttered the old man 
between his teeth. But before he could utter another word 
Johnstone re-entered the room, ushering in Judge Merlin, Ish- 
mael Worth, and the three negroes. 

“ Good Heaven ! ” exclaimed Faustina, in horror, as her eyes 
met those of Katie ; “ it is the ghost of the black negro woman 
raised from the dead ! ” 

Katie heard this low exclamation, and replied to it by such 
grotesque and awful grimaces as only the face of the African 
negro is capable of executing. 

“Ho, it is herself. There are no such things as ghosts. It 
is herself, and I have been deceived,” muttered Faustina to 
herself. And then she fell into silence. 

Perhaps Lord Vincent had not altogether credited McRae’s 
statement, made to him at the station house, for certainly his 


FRUITS OF CRIME. 369 

eyes opened witli consternation on seeing this party enter the 
room. 

Johnstone marshaled them to their appointed places on the 
right hand of the magistrate. 

On turning around Ishmael met full the eyes of the viscount. 
Ishmael gravely bowed and averted his head. He could not be 
otherwise than courteous under any circumstances; and he 
could not bear to look upon a fellowman in his degradation, 
no matter how well that degradation was deserved. 

Judge Merlin also bowed, as he looked upon his worthless 
son-in-law ; but the judge’s bow was full of irony as his face was 
full of scorn. 

The magistrate looked up from the document he was read- 
ing and acknowledged the presence of the new arrivals with 
a bow. Then turning to the prisoner he said: 

“ Malcolm, lad, this is an unco ill-looking accusation they 
hae brought against you; kidnaping and slave- trading, na less 
— a sort of piracy, ye ken, lad ! What hae ye to say till it ? ” 

What have I to say to it, sir ? Why, simply that it has taken 
me so by surprise that I can find nothing to say but that I am 
astounded at the effrontery of any man who could bring such 
a charge against me, and at the fatuity, if you will excuse my 
terming it so, of any magistrate who could issue a warrant 
against me upon such a charge,” said the viscount haughtily. 

^‘Nay, nay, lad! nay, nay! I had guid grounds for what I 
did, as ye shall hear presently, and noo, gen ye hae na objection, 
we will proceed wi’ the investigation ” 

But I have an objection, sir ! I tell you this has taken me 
utterly by surprise. I am totally unprepared for it. I must 
have time, I must have counsel,” said the viscount with much 
heat. • 

Then I maun remand ye for another examination,” replied 
Sir Alexander McKetchum coolly. 

“ But I object to that, also. I object to be kept in confine- 
ment while there is nothing proved against me, and I demand 
my liberty,” said the viscount insolently. 

Why dinna ye demaund the moon and stars, laddie ? I 
could gi’e them to ye just as sune,” replied Sir Alexander. 

You have no right to detain me in custody ! ” fiercely broke 
forth Lord Vincent. 

Whisht, lad, I hae no richt to set you at leeberty.” 

Here old Katie, whose eyes had been snapping whole volleys 


370 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

of vindictive fire upon the prisoners, broke out into words be- 
fore Judge Merlin or Ishmael could possibly prevent her. 

“DonH you let him go, ole marse! he’s one nasty, ’ceitful, 
lyin’, white nigger as ebber libbed! He did do it, and he 
needn’t ’ny it, not while I’m standin’ here! Don’t you let 
him go, ole marse! he’s cunnin’ as de debbil, and he’d run 
away, sure as ebber you’s born! You take my ’vice and don’t 
you let him go ! he artful as ole Sam ! ” 

Katie, Katie, Katie ! ” remonstrated Ishmael, in a low voice. 
So he is, den ! and he knows it himse’f, too ! Yes, you is, 
you grand vilyun! Ah, ha! ’member how you stood dere 
cussin’ and swearin’ and callin’ names, and sassin’ at me, hard 
as ebber you could ! Oh, ho ! I telled you den how it was goin’ 
to be! You didn’t beliebe me, didn’t you? Berry well, den! 
Kow you see ! now it’s my turn ! ” 

‘‘Katie, be silent!” ordered Judge Merlin in a low tone. 

“Yes, marse, yes, chile, I gwine be silent arter I done ease 
my mind speaking. Umph, humph ! ” she said, turning again to 
the unhappy prisoner. “ Umph, humph ! thought you and dat 
whited salt-peter was gwine gobem de world all your own way, 
didn’t you? Heave me down in de wault to sleep long o’ de 
rats, didn’t you? Ah, ha! where you sleep las’ night — and 
where you gwine to sleep to-night? Hot in your feathery bed, 
dat’s sartain! Send me ’cross de seas, to lib long ob de bar- 
bariums in de Stingy Islands, didn’t you ? Oh, ho ! where you 
gwine be sent ’cross de seas? Hot on a party ob pleasure, dat 
sartain, too! Ebber hear tell ob Bottommy Bay, eh? Dere 
where you gwine. Tell you good.” 

Here Sir Alexander, who had been gazing in speechless as- 
tonishment upon what seemed to him to be an incomprehensi- 
ble phenomenon, recovered himself, found his voice, and said to 
Judge Merlin, very much as if he were speaking of some half- 
tamed wild animal: 

“ Keep that creature quiet or she must be removed.” 

“Katie,” said Ishmael gently, “you would not like to be 
taken from the courtroom, would you ? ” 

“Ko! ’cause I don’t want to be parted from my lordship. I 
lubs him so well ! ” replied Katie, with a vindictive snap of her 
eyes. 

“Then you must be silent,” said Ishmael, “or you will be 
sent away. 

“ Look here, ole marse ! ” said Katie, addressing the bench, 


FEUITS OF CRIME. 


371 


lie had his sassagef action sassin’ at me dere at Scraggy I now 
it’s my turn! And I gwine gib it to him good, too. Say, my 
lordship I sold me to a low life ’fectioner to work in de kitchen 
— didn’t you! Umph-humph! What you gwine to work at? 
not crickets, dat’s sartain! Ebber try to take your recreation 
in de quarries wid a big ball and chain to your leg, eh? And 
an oberseer wid a long whip, ha ? ” she grinned. 

“ Sir, if you have been sufficiently well entertained with 
this exhibition of gorilla intelligence and malignity, will you 
have the goodness to put a stop to the performance and proceed 
with the business of the day?” asked Lord Vincent arrogantly. 

Aye, lad ! though, as ye ask for a short delay of proceeding, 
in order to get your counsel, which is but reasonable, there is 
no business on hand but just to remand you and your companion 
— puir lassie! — ^back to prison, for future examination,” said 
the magistrate. Then turning to a policeman, he said: 

^‘If that strange creature becomes disorderly again, remove 
her from the room.” 

“Nebber mind, ole marse! he no call for to take de trouble. 
I done said all I gwine to say and now I gwine to shut up my 
mouf tight. I’d scorn toi hit a man arter he’s down,” said 
Katie, bridling with a lofty assumption of magnanimity. And 
as she really did shut her mouth fast, the point of expulsion was 
not pressed. 

And noo, lad, naething remains but to send you back,” said 
Sir Alexander. 

I remarked to you before, sir, that I object to be remanded 
to prison, since nothing is proved against ifie. I totally object ! ” 
said the viscount stubbornly. 

“Aye, lad, it appears too that ye object to maist things in 
legal procedure; the whilk is but natural, ye ken, for what 
saith the poet? 

* Nae thief e’er felt the halter draw 
Wi’ guid opinion o’ the law,’ ” 

replied the magistrate, with a touch of caustic humor. 

“ But, sir, I am ready to give' bail to any amount.” 

“ It will na do, lad. The accusation is too grave a one. Kae 
doubt ye would gi’e me bail, and leg bail to the boot o’ that. 
Ka, Malcolm, ye hae had your fling, lad, and noo yee’ll just hae 
to abide the consequences,” replied the magistrate, taking up a 
pen to sign a document that his clerk laid before him. 


372 self-kaised; oe, feom the defihs. 

“ Then I hope, sir, that since we are to be kept in re- 
straint, we shall be placed in something like human quarters; 
and not in that den of wild beasts, your filthy police station,” 
said the viscount. 

“ Ou, aye, surely, lad. Ye shall be made as comfortable as is 
consistent wi’ your safe-keeping. Christie, take the prisoners 
to the jail, and ask the governor to put them in the best cells 
at his disposal, as a special favor to mysek. And ask him also 
in my name to be kind and considerate to the female prisoner 
— ^puir lassie ! ” said the magistrate, handing the document to 
the policeman in question. 

“ Ole marse ” began Katie, breaking her word, and ad- 

dressing the bench. 

The court is adjourned*,” said the magistrate, rising. 

But, ole marse ” repeated Katie. 

“ Remove the prisoners,” he said, coming down from his 
seat. 

“ Yes, but, ole marse ” she persisted. 

“ Dismiss the witnesses ! ” he ordered, passing on. 

“ Laws bless my soul alive, can’t a body speak to you ? ” ex- 
claimed Katie, catching hold of his coat and detaining him. 

“ What is it that you want, creature ? ” demanded Sir Alex- 
ander, in astonishment. 

“ Only one parting word to ’lighten your mind, ole marse ! 
Which it is dis: Just now you called dat whited salt-peter here 
a pure lassie, which, beggin’ your pardon, is ’fernally false, 
dough you don’t know it! ’cause if she’s pure, all de wus ob 
de poor mis’able gals ye might pick up out’n de streets is heb- 
benly angels, cherrybims, and serryfims. Dere now, dat’s de 
trufe I Don’t go and say I didn’t tell you 1 ” And Katie let go 
his coat. 

And with a bow to Judge Merlin and his party as he passed 
them, Sir Alexander left the room. 

The prisoners were removed — Faustina weeping, and the vis- 
count affecting to sneer. 

Judge Merlin and Ishmael went forth arm-in-arm. Of late 
the old man needed the support of the young one in walking. 
Sorrow and anxiety, more than age and infirmity, had bowed 
and weakened him. As the friends walked on, their conver- 
sation turned on the case in hand. 

The magistrate seems disposed to be very lenient,” said the 
judge, in a discontented tone of voice. 


FEUn’S OF CEIME. 


373 

“Not too lenient, I think, sir. He is evidently very kindly 
disposed towards the prisoner, with whose family he seems to 
be personally acquainted; but, notwithstanding all that, you 
observe, he is conscientiously rigid in the discharge of his mag- 
isterial duties in this case. He would not accept bail for the 
prisoner, although by stretching a point he might have done 
so,” replied Ishmael. 

“ I wonder if he knew that ? I wonder if he really knew the 
extent and limit of his power as a magistrate? I doubt it. I 
fancy he refused bail in order to keep on the safe side of an un- 
certainty. For, do you know, he impressed me as being a very 
illiterate man. Why, he speaks as broadly as the rudest Scotch 
laborer I have met with yet! He must be an illiterate man.” 

“ Oh, no, sir ; you are quite mistaken in him. Sir Alexander 
McKetchum is a ripe scholar, an accomplished mathematician, 
an extensive linguist, and last of all, a profound lawyer. He 
graduated at the celebrated law school of Glasgow University; 
at least so I’m assured by good authority,” replied Ishmael. 

“ And speaks in a lingo as barbarous as that of our own ne- 
groes ! ” exclaimed the judge. 

Ishmael smiled and said: 

“ I have also been informed that his early life was passed in 
poverty and obscurity, until the death of a distant relation 
suddenly enriched him and aiforded him the means of paying 
his expenses at the University. Perhaps he clings to his rustic 
style of speech from the force of early habit, or from affection 
for the accent of his childhood, or from the spirit of independ- 
ence, or from all three of these motives, or from no motive at 
all. However, with the style of his pronunciation we have 
nothing whatever to do. All that we are concerned about is 
his honesty and ability as a magistrate; and that appears to me 
to' be beyond question.” 

“ Oh, yes, yes, I dare say, he will do his duty. I am pleased 
that he refused bail and remanded the prisoners.” 

“Yes, he did his duty in that matter, though it must have 
been a very disagreeable one. And now, sir, as the prisoners 
are remanded and we have nothing more to detain us in Banff, 
had we not better return immediately to Edinboro’ ? ” suggested 
Ishmael; for you see, ever since the news of his daughter’s 
misfortunes had shaken the old man’s strength, it was Ishmael 
who had to watch over him, to think for him and to shape his 
course. 


374 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

Y — ^yes ; perhaps we had. But when I return to Edin- 
boro’, I go to Cameron Court,” said the judge hesitatingly. 

“ The best place for you, sir, beyond all question.” 

• Yes; and by the way, Ishmael, I am charged with an invi- 
tation from the Countess of Hurstmonceux to yourself, in- 
viting you to accompany me on my visit to her ladyship. Do 
you think you would like to accept it ? ” 

“ Very much indeed. I have a very pleasant remembrance 
of Lady Hurstmonceux, though I doubt whether her ladyship 
will be able to recollect me,” said Ishmael with a smile. 

The judge was somewhat surprised at this ready acqui- 
escence. After a short hesitation, he said: 

Do you know that Claudia is staying at Cameron Court ? ” 

“ Why, certainly. It was for that reason I favored your go- 
ing there. It is, besides, under the circumstances, the most 
desirable residence for Lady Vincent.” 

This reply was made in so calm a manner that any latent 
doubt or fear entertained by the judge that there might be 
something embarrassing or unpleasant to Ishmael in his pros- 
pective meeting with Claudia was set at rest forever. 

But how would Claudia bear this meeting? How would she 
greet the abandoned lover of her youth? That was the question 
that now troubled the judge. 

It did not trouble Ishmael, however. He had no doubts or 
misgivings on the subject. True, he also remembered that there 
had been a long and deep attachment between himself and 
Claudia Merlin; but it had remained unspoken, unrevealed. 
And Claudia in her towering pride had turned from him in his 
struggling poverty, and had married for rank and title another, 
whom she despised ; and he had conquered his ill-placed passion 
and fixed his affections upon a lovelier maiden. But that all be- 
longed to the past. And now, safe in his pure integrity and 
happy love, he felt no sort of hesitation in meeting Lady Vin- 
cent, especially as he knew that, in order to save her ladyship 
effectually, it was necessary that he should see her personally. 

But Ishmael never lost sight of the business immediately 
in hand. Their walk from the town hall towards their hotel 
took them immediately past the Aberdeen stage-coach office. 
Here Ishmael stopped a moment, to secure places for himself 
and company in the coach that started at eleven o’clock. 

‘^We shall only have time to reach the hotel and pack our 
portmanteaus before the coach vnW call for us. It is a hasty 


FEUITS OF CRIME. 


375 

journey; but then it will enable us to catch the afternoon 
train at Aberdeen, and reach Edinboro’ early in the evening,” 
said Ishmael. 

And the judge acquiesced. 

When they entered the inn, they found that the professor 
and the three negroes were there before them. 

Ishmael gave the requisite orders, and they were so promptly 
executed that when, a few minutes later, the coach called, the 
whole party was ready to start. The judge and Ishmael rode 
inside, and the professor and the three negroes on the outside; 
and thus they journeyed to Aberdeen, where they arrived in 
time to jump on board the express train that left at two o’clock 
for Edinboro’. They reached Edinboro’ at five o’clock in the 
afternoon, and drove immediately to Magruder’s Hotel. Here 
they stopped only long enough to change their traveling dresses 
and dine. And then, leaving the three negroes in charge of the 
professor, they set out in a cab for Cameron Court. It was eight 
o’clock in the evening when they arrived and sent in their 
cards. 

The countess and Claudia were at tea in the little drawing 
room when the cards were brought in. 

Show the gentlemen into this room,” said Lady Hurst- 
monceux to the servant who had brought them. 

And in a few minutes the door was thrown open and — 
** Judge Merlin and Mr. Worth ” were announced. 

The countess arose to welcome her guests. 

But Claudia felt all her senses reel as the room seemed to 
turn around with her. 

Judge Merlin shook hands with his hostess and presented 
Ishmael to her, and then, leaving them speaking together, he 
advanced to embrace his daughter. 

“My dearest Claudia, all is well. We have settled the whole 
party, the viscount, the valet, and the woman. They are lodged 
in jail, and are safe to meet the punishment of their crimes,” 
he said, as he folded her to his bosom. 

But oh! why did her heart beat so wildly, throbbing almost 
audibly against her father’s breast? 

He held her there for a few seconds; it was as long as he de- 
cently could, and then, gently releasing her, he turned towards 
Ishmael, and beckoning him to approach, said : 

“ My daughter, here is an old friend come to see you. Wel- 
come him.” 


876 self-kaised; ok, from the depths. 

Ishmael advanced and bowed gravely. 

“I am glad to see yon, Mr. Worth,” said Claudia in a low 
voice, as she held out her hand.' 

He took it, bowed over it, and said: 

I hope I find you well. Lady Vincent.” 

And then as he raised his head their eyes met; his eyes— 
those sweet, truthful, earnest, dark eyes, inherited from his 
mother — ^were full of the most respectful sympathy. But hers 
— oh, hers! 

She did not mean to look at him so; but sometimes the soul 
in a crisis of agony will burst all bounds and reveal itself, 
though such revelation were fraught with fate. Grief, shame, 
remorse, and passionate regret for the lost love and squandered 
happiness that might have been hers, were all revealed in the 
thrilling, pathetic, deprecating gaze with which she once more 
met the eyes of her girlhood’s young worshiper, her worshiper 
no longer. 

** Of all sad words of tongue or pen 
The saddest are these: ‘ It might have been.* ” 

Only for an instant did she forget herself ; and then Claudia 
Merlin was repressed and Lady Vincent reinstated. Her voice 
was calm as she replied: 

“It is very kind in you, Mr. Worth, to come so long a dis- 
tance, at so great a cost to your professional interests, for the 
sake of obliging my father and serving me.” 

“ I would have come ten times the distance, at ten times the 
cost, to have obliged or served either,” replied Ishmael earnestly, 
as he resigned her hand, which until then he had held. 

“ I believe you would. I know you would. I thank you more 
than I can say,” she answered. 

“ Have you been to tea, J udge Merlin ? ” inquired the count- 
ess hospitably. 

“Ho, madam; but will be very glad of a cup,” answered the 
judge, pleased with any divertisement. 

Lady Hurstmonceux rang, and ordered fresh tea and toast 
and more cups and saucers. And the party seated themselves. 
And thus the embarrassment of that dreaded meeting was 
overgot. 

While they sipped their tea the judge exerted himself to be 
interesting. He gave a graphic account of the scene in the 
magistrate’s office; the assumption of haughty dignity and de- 


FPJJITS OF CRIME. 


377 

fiance on the part of the viscount; the pitiable terrors of the 
ex-opera singer; the vindictive triumph of Katie; and the broad 
accent, caustic humor, and official obstinacy of the magistrate. 
Ishmael, when appealed to, assisted his memory. Claudia was 
gravely interested. But Lady Hurstmonceux was excessively 
amused. 

They were surprised to hear that further proceedings were 
deferred; but they at last admitted that they would be obliged 
to be patient under “ the law’s delays.” 

After tea, fearing that her guests were in danger of “ mop- 
ing,” Lady Hurstmonceux proposed a game of whist, saying 
playfully that it was very seldom she was so fortunate as to 
have the right number of evening visitors to form a rubber. 

And as no one gainsaid their hostess, the tea service was taken 
away, the table cleared, and the cards brought. They seated 
themselves and cut for partners; and Claudia and her father 
were pitted against Lady Hurstmonceux and Ishmael. 

Do you wonder at this? Do you wonder that people who 
had just passed through scenes of great trouble, and were on 
the eve, yes, in the very midst of a fatal crisis, people whose 
minds were filled with sorrow, humiliation, and intense anxiety, 
should gather around a table for a quiet game of whist; yes, 
and enjoy it, too? 

Why, if you will take time to reflect, you will remember that 
such things are done in our parlors and drawing rooms every 
day and night in our lives. Our thoughts, our passions, our 
troubles, are put down, covered over, ignored, and we — play 
whist, get interested in honors and odd tricks, and win or 
lose the rub; or do something equally at variance with the 
inner life, that lives on all the same. 

Our party spent a pleasant week at Cameron Court. 

Ishmael occupied himself with making notes for the approach- 
ing trials, or with visiting the historical monuments of the 
neighborhood. 

Judge Merlin devoted himself to his daughter. 

Lady Hurstmonceux studied the comfort of her guests, and 
succeeded in securing it. 

And thus the days passed until they received an official sum- 
mons to appear before Sir Alexander McKetchum at the ex- 
amination of Lord Vincent and Mrs. Dugald. 


378 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 
CHAPTEK XLIV. 

NEMESIS. 

With pallid cheeks and haggard eyes, 

And loud laments and heartfelt sighs, 

Unpitied, hopeless of relief, 

She drinks the cup of bitter grief. 

In vain the sigh, in vain the tear, 

Compassion never enters here; 

But justice clanks the iron chain 

And calls forth shame, remorse, and paifi. 

— Anon, 

The same carriage that brought Lord Vincent and Mrs. 
Dugald to the town hall conveyed them from that place to the 
county jail. 

There Lord Vincent finally dismissed- it, sending it home to 
the castle, and instructing Cuthbert to^'pack up some changes 
of clothing and his dressing-case and a few books and to bring 
them to him at the prison. 

Mrs. Dugald at the same time stopped crying long enough 
to order the old man to ask Mrs. MacDonald to put up all that 
might be necessary to her comfort for a week, and dispatch it 
by the same messenger that should bring Lord Vincent’s effects. 

These arrangements concluded, the carriage drove away and 
Policeman McRae conducted his prisoners into the jail. He 
took them first into the warden’s room, where he produced the 
warrant for their commital and delivered them up. 

The warden, Auld Saundie Gra’ame,’’ as he was familiarly 
styled, was a tall, gaunt, hard-favored old Scot, who had been 
too many years in his present position to be astonished at any 
description of prisoner that might be confined to his custody. 
In his public service of more than a quarter of a century he 
had had turned over to his tender mercies more than one ele- 
gantly dressed female, and many more than o: e titled scamp. 
So, without evincing the least surprise, he simply took the fe- 
male prisoner, named in the warrant F austir a Dugald,” to be 
— ^just what she was — a fallen angel who had dropped into the 
clutches of the law; and the male prisoner, named in the war- 
rant “ Malcolm Dugald, Viscount Vincent,” to be — what he was 
- — a noble rogue, guilty of being found out. 

While he was reading the warrants, entering their names in 


NEMESIS. 


379 


his books, and writing out a receipt for their “bodies,” Lord 
Vincent stood with his fettered hands clasped, his head bowed 
upon his chest, and his countenance set in grim endurance ; and 
Faustina stood wringing her hands, weeping, and moaning, and 
altogether making a good deal of noise. 

“ Whisht, whisht, baimie ! dinna greet sae loud ! Hech ! but 
ye mak’ din enough to deave a miller ! ” expostulated the warden, 
as he handed the receipt to McKae and turned his regards to the 
female prisoner. 

But the only effect of his words upon Faustina was to open 
the sluices of her tears and make them flow in greater abun- 
dance. 

“ Eh, lassie, ’tis pity of you too ! But hae ye ne^er been tauld 
that the way o^ the transgreesor is haird? and the wages o’ sin 
is deeth ? ” said the “ kindly ” Scot. 

“ But I do not deserve death ! I never did kill anybody my- 
self ! ” whimpered F austina. 

“ Wha the de’il said ye did ? I was quoting the Book whilk 
I greatly fear ye dinna aften look into, or ye would na be here 
noo.” 

“But I have no right to be here. I never did anything, I, 
myself, to deserve such treatment. It was Lord Vincent’s 
fault. It was he who brought me to this ! ” whined Faustina. 

“ Nae doobt ! nae doobt at a’ ! He’s ane o’ the natural enemies 
o’ your sex, ye ken. And ye suld o’ thocht o’ that before ye 
trusted him sae far.” 

“ I did not trust him at all. And I do not Imow what you 
mean by your insinuations, you horrid old red-headed beast ! ” 
cried Faustina. 

“Whisht! whisht! hand your tongue, woman! Dinna be sae 
abusive! Fou’ words du nae guid, as I aften hae occasion to 
impress upon the malefactors that are brocht here for safe- 
keeping,” said the jailer, as he turned and looked around upon 
the underlings in attendance. Then beckoning one of the turn- 
keys to him, he said: 

“Here, Cuddie, tak’ this lass into the north corridor o’ the 
women’s ward; and when ye hae her safe in the cell, ye maun 
knock off the irons fra her wrists. Gang wi’ Cuddie, lass; an 
dinna be fashed; he’s nae a bad chiel.” 

Cuddie, a big, honest, good-natured looking brute, took a 
bunch of great keys from their hook on the wall and signing 
for his prisoner to follow him, turned to depart. 


380 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

But Faustina showed no disposition to obey the order. And 
McBae, who had lingered in the room, now turned to the warden 
and said : 

“ If you please, sir. Sir Alexander McKetchum desired me to 
, request you to put these prisoners into as comfortable quarters 
as you could command, consistent with their safe custody.” 

Sir Alexander would do weel to mind his ain business. Wha 
the de’il gi’e him commission to dictate to me ? ” demanded the 
old Soot wrathfully. 

“Nay, sir, he only makes the request as a personal fatbr,” 
said McEae deprecatingly. 

“ Ou, aye, aweel, that’s anither thing. Though there’s nae 
muckle of choice amang the cells, for that matter; forbye it’s 
the four points o’ the compass, nor’, sou’, east, and wast. The 
jail is square and fronts nor’, and the cells range accordingly. 
There’s nae better than the nor’ corridor o’ the women’s ward. 
Tak’ the lass awa, Cuddie.” 

Cuddie laid his hand not unkindly on the shoulder of his 
prisoner, and Faustina, seeing at last that resistance was quite 
in vain, followed him out. 

“ Noo, Donald, mon,” said the jailer, beckoning another turn- 
key, “ convey his lairdship to the sou-wast corner cell in the 
'Inen’s ward. It has the advantage of twa windows and mare 
sunshine than fa’s to the lot o’ prison cells in general. And 
when ye get him there relieve him o’ his manacles.” 

The officer addressed took down his bunch of keys, and turned 
to his prisoner. But Lord Vincent did not wait for the dese- 
crating hand of the turnkey to be laid upon his shoulder. With 
a haughty gesture and tone he said: 

“Lead the way, fellow; I follow you.” 

And Donald bowed and preceded his prisoner as if he had 
been a head-waiter of a fashionable hotel, showing an honored 
guest to his apartments. 

When they were gone the old warden turned to the po- 
liceman : 

“Will it gae hard wi’ them, do ye think, McEae?” 

“I think it will send them to penal servitude for twenty 
years or for life.” 

Meanwhile Cuddie conducted his prisoner through long lines 
of close, musty, fetid passages, and up high flights of cold, 
damp stone stairs, to the very top of the building, where the 
women’s wards were situated. 


NEMESIS. 


381 


Here he found a stout old woman, in a linen cap, plaid shawl, 
and linsey gown, seated at an end window, with her feet upon a 
foot-stove, and her hands engaged in knitting a stocking. 

She was Mrs. Ferguson, the female turnkey. 

“Here, mither, I hae brocht you anither prisoner,” said 
Cuddie, coming up with his charge. 

The old woman settled her spectacles on her nose, and looked 
up, taking a deliberate survey of the newcomer, as she said: 

“ Hech ! the quean is unco f oine ; they be braw claes to come 
to prison in. Eh, Cuddie, I wad suner hae any ither than ane 
o’ these hizzies brocht in.” 

“But, mither, the word is that she maun be made comfort- 
able,” said Cuddie. 

“ Ou, aye — nae doobt ! she will be some callant’s light o’ 
luve, wha hae a plenty o’ siller ! ” replied the old woman scorn- 
fully, as she rose from her place and led the way to the door 
of a cell about halfway down the same corridor. 

“Ye’ll pit her in here. It will be as guid as anither,” she 
said. 

Cuddie detached a certain key from his bunch and handed it 
to her. She opened the door, and they entered. The cell was a 
small stone chamber, six feet by eight, with one small grated 
window, facing the door. On the right of the window was a 
narrow bed, filling up that side of the cell; on the left was a 
rusty stove ; that was all ; there was no chair, no table, no strip 
of carpet on the cold stone floor; all was comfortless, desolate. 

Faustina burst into a fresh flood of tears as she threw herself 
upon the wretched bed. 

“ Let me tak’ afl the fetters,” said Cuddie gently. 

Faustina arose to a sitting position, and held up her hands. 

Cuddie, with some trouble, got them off, but so awkwardly 
that he bruised and grazed her wrists in doing so, while Faus- 
tina wept piteously and railed freely. 

Cuddie was too good-natured to mind the railing, but the 
dame fired up: 

“ Haud your growlin’, ye ne’er-do well ! Gin ye had your 
deserts, for a fou’-mouthed jaud, ye’d be in a dark cell on bread 
and water ! ” 

“ Whisht ! whisht, mither ! Let her hae the length o’ her 
tongue, puir lass! It does her guid, and it does me na hurt. 
There, lass— the aims are aff, and if you’ll o’ny put your ker- 
chief aroun’ your bonnie wrists they’ll sune be weel enough.” 


382 SELF-EAISED ; OK, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

“ Take me away ! take me away from that horrid old 
woman ! ” cried Faustina, turning her wrath upon the dame, 
and appealing to Cuddie. 

“ Whisht ! dinna ye mind her. She’s a puir doited auld car- 
line,” said Cuddie, in a voice happily too low to reach the ears 
of said carline.” 

“Ye maunna guid her siccan a sair gait, mither,” said Cud- 
die, as they left the cell. 

“I doobt she has guided hersel’ an unco’ ill ane,” retorted' 
the dame. 

Faustina was left sitting on the side of the hard bed, weep- 
ing bitterly. She did not throw off her bonnet or cloak. She 
could not make herself at home in this wretched den. Be- 
sides, it was bitterly cold; there was no fire in the rusty stove, 
and she wrapped her sables more closely around her. 

She remained there in the same position, cowering, shivering, 
and weeping, for two or three miserable hours, when she was 
at length broken in upon by the old dame, who brought in her 
prison dinner — coarse beef broth, in a tin can, with an iron 
spoon, and a thick hunk of oatmeal bread on a tin plate. 

“ What is that ? ” asked Faustina. 

“Your dinner. Is it na guid o’ the authorities to feed the 
like o’ you for naething ? ” 

“ My dinner ! ugh ! Do you think I am going to swallow that 
swill — fit only for pigs? ” exclaimed Faustina, in disgust. 

“ Hech, sirs ! what’s the warld comming to ? It is guid broose, 
verra guid broose, that many an honest woman would be unco’ 
glad to hae for hersel’ and her puir bairns, forhje you I said 
the dame wrathfully. 

“ Take it away I the sight of it makes me ill ! ” 

“ Verra weel; just as you please. I’ll set it here, till ye come 
to your stomach,” said the dame, setting the can and plate 
down upon the stone floor, for there was no other place to put 
them. 

“ I want a fire — ^I am frozen ! ” cried Faustina. 

“Why did na ye say sae before?” growled the dame, going 
out. 

In a few minutes she came back, bringing coals and kindlings, 
and lighted the fire, and then retreated as sullenly as she had 
entered. Faustina drew near the stove, and sat down upon the 
floor to hover over it. 

When she grew warm her eyes began to glitter dangerously. 


l^EMESIS. 383 

She turned herself around and surveyed the place. Like the 
frozen viper thawed to life, her first instinct was to bite. 

“ I would like to set fire to the prison ! ” she said. 

But a moment’s refiection proved to her the folly of this 
impulse. If she should use the fire in her stove for such incen- 
diary purposes, herself would be the only thing burned up ; the 
cell of stone and its furniture of iron would escape with a 
smoking. 

She put off her bonnet and her sables — the first time since 
the night before, and she threw herself upon the bed, and lay 
there in a torment until six o’clock in the evening, when the 
door was once more unlocked by the dame, who brought her the 
prison supper — a tin can of oatmeal porridge. 

“Here’s your parritch; ye may eat it or leave it, just as ye 
please,” said the woman, setting the can on the floor. 

“ I want some tea ! I will have none of your filthy messes ! 
Bring me some tea ! ” cried Faustina. 

“ I wish ye may get it, lassie, that’s a’,” answered the dame, 
as she went out and locked the door' behind her. 

That was the last visit Faustina had that night. She lay on 
her hard bed, weeping, moaning, and lamenting her fate, until 
the last light of day died out of the narrow window, and left 
the cell in darkness, but for the dim red ray in the corner, that 
showed where the fire in the rusty stove burned. And still she 
lay there, until the pangs of hunger began to assail her. These 
she bore some time before she could overcome her repugnance 
to the prison fare. At length, however, she arose and groped 
her way about the stone floor until she found the can of beef 
broth, which, upon trying, she discovered to taste better than 
it looked. She ate it all; then she ate the hunk of bread; and 
finally she finished with the oatmeal porridge. And, then, with- 
out undressing, she threw herself on the outside of her bed ; and, 
overcome with fatigue, distress, and vigilance, she fell into a 
deep sleep that lasted until the morning. 

It might have lasted much longer, but she was aroused about 
seven o’clock, by the entrance of her keeper, bringing her 
breakfast. 

“ Eh I ” said the dame, glancing at the empty cans, “ but I 
thocht ye would come to your stomach. Here’s your breakfast.” 

Faustina raised herself up and gazed around in a bewildered 
way, but she soon recollected herself, and looked inquiringly 
at her keeper. 


384 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

It’s your breakfast,” said the latter ; it’s guid lye cofEee, 
sweeted wi’ treacle, and a braw bit o’ bannock.” 

“I want water and soap and towels,” said Faustina, in an 
angry, peremptory manner. 

“ Ou, aye, nae doobt ; and ye would like a lady’s maid, and 
perfumery ’till your toilet. Aweel, there is a stone jug and 
bowl of water, and a hempen clout ahint the stove, gin that will 
serve your purpose,” said the dame, setting down the breakfast, 
and gathering the empty cans from the floor as she left the 
cell. 

Faustina, poor wretch, made such a toilet as her rude pro- 
vidings enabled her to do, and then, with what appetite she 
might, made her morning meal. And then she sat on the edge 
of her bed and cried and wished herself dead. 

At about eleven o’clock she heard footsteps and voices ap- 
proaching the cell. And the door was opened by the turnkey, 
who ushered in Mrs, MacDonald, followed by a servant from 
the castle, bringing a large box and a basket. 

The servant set down his burdens and retired with the turn- 
key, who immediately locked the door. 

And not until then, when they were left alone, did this pre- 
cious pair of female friends rush into each other’s arms, Faus- 
tina bursting into tears and sobbing violently on the bosom of 
Mrs. MacDonald, and Mrs. MacDonald wheedling, caressing, 
and soothing Faustina. 

‘^Mine pet, mine darling, mine bonny bairn,” were some of 
the epithets of endearment bestowed by the lady upon her fa- 
vorite. 

Oh, madame, what a purgatory of a place, and what demons 
of people ! ” F austina cried. 

“Yes, my sweet child, yes, I know it! but bear up!” 

“ ISTothing fit to eat, or drink, or sleep on, or sit down, or even 
to wash with ; and no one to speak a civil word to me ! ” wailed 
Faustina, still dwelling upon present inconveniences rather than 
thinking of the future perils. 

“Yes, my dear, yes, I know; but now, sit you down and see 
what I have brought you,” said Mrs. MacDonald, gently forcing 
Faustina to seat herself upon the side of the bed. 

“Look at my poor dress,” said Faustina, pointing down to 
the delicate white evening dress in which she had been arrested, 
and which was now crumpled, torn, and stained. 

“Eh, but that’s a woeful sight! But I thought of it, my 


NEMESIS. 


385 

bairn, and I bave brought you a plain black silk and white 
linen collars and sleeves. Let me help you to change your dress, 
and I will take that white one home with me.” 

F austina agreed to this, and when the change was effected 
she certainly presented a more respectable appearance. 

Mrs. MacDonald next unpacked the large basket, taking from 
it a dressing-case, furnished with every requisite for the toilet; 
a work-box, with every convenience for a lady’s busy-idleness; 
and a writing-desk, with every necessary article for epistolary 
correspondence. 

“ Now where shall I put them? ” she inquired, looking around 
upon the bare cell. 

“Ah, the beastly place!” exclaimed Faustina; “there is no 
table, no stand; you will have to leave them on the floor or set 
them on the window sill.” 

Mrs. MacDonald ranged them on the floor, against the wall, 
under the window. 

And then she rolled up the spoiled evening dress and crowded 
it into the empty basket. Next she took the trunk and pushed 
it under the bed, saying: 

“ In that trunk, my dear, you will find every requisite change 
of clothing. The basket I will take back.” 

“ Ah, but I want many more things beside clothing. I want 
tea and coffee. I want bed linen and china; and — many more 
things,” said Faustina impatiently. 

“ And you shall have everything you want, my dear. Your 
purse is in your writing desk. There are a hundred and forty 
guineas in it. Money will buy you all you want. And I will 
see it brought,” said Mrs. Dugald, going to the cell door and 
rapping. 

Dame Ferguson came and unlocked it. 

“ I wish to come out,” said Mrs. MacDonald. 

“Aye, me leddy,” said the dame, courtesying and making 
way for the visitor to pass; for the carriage, with the Hurst- 
monceux arms emblazoned upon its panels, the servant in the 
livery of the Earl of Hurstmonceux, and the haughty air of 
the lady visitor, all impressed the female turnkey with a feel- 
ing of awe. 

“ I wish to speak with you, dame,” said Mrs. MacDonald. 

“ Aye, me leddy, and muckle honor till me ! ” replied the 
woman, with another low courtesy, as she led the way to her 
seat at the window at the extreme end of the corridor. 


386 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

“I wish to bespeak your attention to the lady I have just 
left,” said Mrs. MacDonald. 

“Aye, me leddy! Ye will be ane o’ the beneevolent leddies 
wha gang about, seeking for the lost sheep o’ the hcmse o’ Israel, 
meaning sic puir misguided lasses as yon ! Ye’ll be aiblins, ane 
o’ the leddy directors o’ the Magdalen Hospital ? ” said Mrs. 
Derguson. 

“ The — ^what ? I don’t know what you mean, woman. I am 
speaking to you of a lady — the Honorable Mrs. .Dugald.” 

“A leddy? The Honorable Mistress Dugald? Ou! aye! for- 
gi’e me, your leddyship. I’m e’en but a puir, auld, doitted 
bodie. I e’en thocht ye were talking o’ yon misguided quean 
in the cell. The Honorable Mistress Dugald. She’ll be like 
yoursel’, intereested in yon lassie; and aiblins ain o’ the leddy 
direectors o’ the Magdalen.” 

“ I think you are a fool. The misguided lassie, as you have 
the impudence to call her, is no misguided lassie at all. She is 
the Honorable Mrs. Dugald, of Castle Cragg,” said Mrs. Mac- 
Donald impatiently. 

“Wha — she — ^the lass in yon cell, the Honorable — Mistress 
—Dugald?” 

“Herself!” 

“Hech, that’s awfu’!” 

“ So I wished to give you a hint to treat her with the con- 
sideration due to her rank.” 

“ Eh, sirs ! but that’s awfu’ ! ” repeated the dame, unable 
to overget her astonishment. 

“ She has money enough to pay for all that she requires and 
to reward those who are kind to her besides,” continued Mrs. 
MacDonald. 

“Hae doobt! nae doobt! bags o’ gowd and siller! bags o’ gowd 
and siller! What a puir, auld, doitted, fule bodie I was, to be 
sure,” said the dame, in a tone of regret. 

“ How, I want to know whether she oannot have a few com- 
forts in her cell, if she is able and willing to pay for them, and 
to reward her attendants for bringing them ? ” 

And what for no ? The bonny leddy ^all hae a’ that she 
craves, whilk is consistent wi’ her safe-keeping.” 

“And certainly her friends would ask no more.” 

“ What would her leddyship like to begin wi’ ? ” 

She is to remain here for a week ; therefore she would like 
to have her cell fitted up comfortably. She will want a piece 


NEMESIS. 


387 

of carpeting to cover the floor; some nice flne bedding and bed 
linen; a toilet service of china; a single dinner and tea service 
of china; and a silver fork and spoon. Can you recollect all 
these articles?” 

What for no ? ” 

But stay, I forgot; she will want a small table and an easy- 
chair and footstool. Can you remember them all ? ” 

‘‘Ilkaane!” 

Twenty pounds, I should think, would cover the whole ex- ' 
pense. Here is the money; take it and send out and get the 
things as soon as you can,” said Mrs. MacDonald, putting two 
ten-pound notes in the hand of the dame. 

“ I’ll hae them all in by twal’ o’ the clock,” answered the 
dame zealously. “Be guid till us! The Honorable Mrs. Du- 
gald! Yon quean! Who’d hae thocht it? But what will be 
the reason they pit the bonny leddy in prison ? It’s wonderfu’ I 
It canna be for ony misdeed ? ” 

“ Ho, dame, it is for no misdeed. Ah ! you have not read his- 
tory, or you would know that ladies of the highest rank, even 
queens and princesses, have been sometimes put in prison.” 

“ Guid be guid till us ! For what crime, gin your leddyship 
pleases ? ” 

“For no crime at all. They have been accused of treason, 
or conspiracy, or something.” 

“ And sic will be the case wi’ this puir leddy ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. MacDonald, whose regard for the truth was 
not of the strictest description. 

“ And what did they do wi’ the puir queens ? ” 

“ Cut off their heads.” 

“ Hech ! that was awfu’ ! And what will they do wi’ this puir 
leddy ^ ” 

“Release her after a while, because they can prove nothing 
against her, and because she has powerful friends.” 

“ Eh, but that’s guid.” 

“ And those friends will well reward such of the officers of the 
prison as shall be kind to her during her incarceration,” said 
Mrs. MacDonald meaningly. “And now I will trouble you to 
unlock the door and admit me for a few minutes to see Mrs. 
Dugald.” 

“ Surely, me leddy,” said the dame, with alacrity. 

When Mrs. MacDonald found herself once more alone with 
her friend she said: 


388 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

You will have everything you may require for your com- 
fort in the course of a few hours; and you will have no more 
trouble from the insolence of your attendant. I have arranged 
all that. And now, my dear, I am going to see the viscoimt. 
What message have you for him ? ” 

“None at all. I hate him; he has brought me to this! And 
he decei^d me about the black woman’s death and nearly fright- 
ened me into illness. Ah! the beast!” exclaimed Faustina, 
with a vehemence of spite that quite astounded her visitor. 

“ My dear,” she said, after she had in some degree recovered 
her composure and collected her faculties, “ that there is some- 
thing very dreadful in this arrest no one can doubt; some charge 
of kidnaping in which you are both said to be implicated. But 
let us hope that the charge will be disproved; let us say that it 
will; in which case, will it be well for you to quarrel with the 
viscount? Think of it, and send him some kind message.” 

“ I cannot think, and I will not send him any message,” per- 
sisted Faustina. 

“ Then I must think for you. Good-by for a little while, my 
pet. I will be with you again before I leave town,” said Mrs. 
MacDonald, as she left the cell. 

She proceeded immediately to the warden’s office, and re- 
quested permission to visit the Viscount Vincent in his cell. 

“ Auld Saundie Gra’am,” as he was called, beckoned the turn- 
key of the ward in which the viscount was confined, and ordered 
him to conduct the lady to Lord Vincent’s cell. The man took 
down his bunch of keys and, with a bow, turned and preceded 
Mrs. MacDonald upstairs to a corridor on the second floor, 
flanked each side with grated doors. 

The visitor followed her conductor up the whole length of 
this corridor to a corner door, which he unlocked to admit the 
visitor. As soon as she passed in he locked the door on her 
and remained waiting on the outside. 

Mrs. MacDonald found herself in the presence of Lord Vin- 
cent. As the cell occupied by the viscount was in the angle 
of the building it possessed the advantage of two small win- 
dows, one with a southern and one with a western outlook. And 
the sun shone in all day long, giving it a more cheerful aspect 
than usually belongs to such dreary places. It was furnished 
with the usual hard narrow bed and rusty iron stove. Besides 
this, it had the unusual convenience of a chair, upon which the 
viscount sat, and a table at which he wrote. 


NEMESIS. 


389 

In one corner of the cell was old Cuthbert, kneeling down 
over an open trunk from which he was unpacking his master’s 
effects. As Mrs. MacDonald entered the viscount arose, bowed, 
and handed her to the solitary chair with as much courtly grace 
as though he had been doing the honors of his own drawing- 
room. 

“ I find you more comfortable, or rather, as I should say, less 
uncomfortable, than I found Mrs. Dugald, poor child,” said the 
visitor, after she sank into a seat. 

“ Yes, thanks to the chance that left my pocketbook in my 
pocket,” answered the prisoner, with a defiant smile, as he seated 
himself on the side of the cot. 

“I found her with scarcely the decent necessaries of life; 
but I have sent out to purchase for her what is needful, poor 
angel.” 

The smile died out of the viscount’s face, which became pale, 
cold, and hard as marble. He made no reply. 

“ She sent you many kind messages,” began Mrs. MacDonald ; 
hut the viscount interrupted her. 

Madam,” he said, I wish never to hear that woman’s name 
mentioned in my hearing again.” 

“Eh, but that is strange! You will have had a misunder- 
standing.” 

“A misunderstanding I I tell you, madam, that her base 
cowardice, her shameful treachery, and her utter selfishness 
have disgusted me beyond measure.” 

“Eh, me! friends should na quarrel that length either. You 
have both had your tempers severely tried. When you get out of 
this trouble you will be reconciled to each other.” 

“ Never ! I loathe that woman ! And if I were free to-day, my 
first act should be to hurry to Castle Cragg and bar the doors 
against her re-entrance there. And my second should be to 
send all her traps after her.” 

Finding at length that it was worse than useless to speak one 
word in favor of Faustina while the viscount was in his present 
mood of mind, Mrs. MacDonald turned the conversation by: 

“Well, my lord, I hope you have taken proper precautions 
for your defense at the preliminary examination.” 

“ I have engaged counsel, who is even now at work upon my 
case.” 

“ And I trust, my lord, that you have summoned the earl. 
His presence here would be a tower of strength to you.” 


390 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

“ I am aware of that. I do not, however, know exactly where 
to put my hand down upon my father. I telegraphed to his 
London bankers to-day to know his address. The answer came 
that he was at St. Petersburg at the last advices. I shall cause 
a telegram to be sent to him there, in the care of our minister. 
It may or may not find him.” 

And now, my lord, what can I do for you ? ” said Mrs. Mac- 
Donald, rising. 

“ Nothing, whatever, my dear madam, except to return to 
the castle and remain there and keep it warm for me against I 
get back,” said the viscount courteously, rising to see his visi- 
tor to the door of the cell — a distance of eight feet from the 
spot where they stood. 

Mrs. MacDonald went back to the cell of Faustina, where she 
remained until the comforts she had sent her were brought in. 
Then she superintended their arrangement, and even assisted 
with her own hands in the laying down of the strip of carpet, 
the making of the bed, and the adjusting of the table. 

“ There, my dear,” she said, when all was done ; I think 
you are now as tidy and as comfortable as it is possible to be 
in such a place as this.” 

“ Thank you,” said Faustina ; but since you have been in 
here this last time you have not once mentioned Lord Vin- 
cent’s name. I suppose you have a reason for your reticence. 
I suppose he has been speaking ill of me. It would be like him, 
to bring me into this trouble and then malign me.” 

“ No, my darling, he has not breathed a syllable of reproach 
against you. He has spoken of you most considerately. He 
has charged me with many affectionate messages to you,” said 
this disinterested peacemaker, whose personal interests were all 
at stake in the quarrel between the viscount and his fellow- 
prisoner. 

“ I don’t want to hear his messages. I hate the sound of his 
name, and I wish I had never seen the sight of his face. But, 
Mrs. MacDonald, I thank you for the kindness you have shown 
me,” said Faustina. 

Mrs. MacDonald kissed her by way of answer. And then she 
sent out and ordered a luxurious little dinner, which was 
promptly brought and served in the cell. And after dinner 
they had a dessert of fruit, and after that coffee, just as they 
had been accustomed to have these things at Castle Cragg. 

Coffee cup in hand, Mrs. MacDonald remained chatting with 


NEIVIESIS. 


391 


her friend until the hour arrived for locking up the prison for 
the night. Then, with a promise to return the next day, and 
to come every day, she took leave and departed, returning to 
Castle Cragg in the family carriage, driven by old Cuthbert. 

This day was a fair sample of all the days passed in prison 
by the Viscount Vincent and Mrs. Dugald up to the time of 
the preliminary examination before the magistrate. 

The viscount occupied himself with writing, making notes 
for his defense, or holding consultation with his counsel. As 
he had plenty of ready money, he did not want any comfort, 
convenience, or luxury that money could provide. The earl, 
his father, however, did not arrive, and had not even been 
heard from. 

Faustina passed her days in prison in eating, drinking, sleep- 
ing, and repining. Mrs. MacDonald came in every day to see 
her, and always stayed and dined with her. Mrs. MacDonald 
rather liked the daily airing she got in her ride to and fro be- 
tween the castle and the prison. She liked also the epicurean 
dinners that Faustina would buy and pay for, and thus she was 
a miracle of constancy and fidelity. 

Old dame Ferguson was their attendant. She also was 
bought with money. And from having been the arrogant mis- 
tress of her prisoner, she was now the humble slave of her 

leddyship,” — ^that being the title to which she had advanced 
Mrs. Dugald. 

Thus the days passed, bringing at length the important morn- 
ing upon which the preliminary examination was to be held, 
in which it was to be decided whether these prisoners should 
be honorably discharged or whether they should be committed 
to jail to stand their trial upon the charge of kidnaping and 
conspiracy. 

The Earl of Hurstmonceux had not yet been heard from; 
but the Viscount Vincent had prepared himself with the best 
defense possible to be got up in his case. 

Judge Merlin and his witnesses had been duly notified to 
appear; and they were now in town, lodging at the very house 
from which the prisoners obtained their recherche meals. 


392 


self-raised; or, from the depths. 


CHAPTER XLV. 

THE viscount’s FALL. 

They that on glorious ancestors enlarge 
Produce their debt instead of their discharge. 

— Young. 

The viscount ordered his carriage to oe in readiness to con- 
vey him to the magistrate’s office. Old Cuthbert was punctual. 
And accordingly on the morning in question Lord Vincent, and 
Eaustina, attended by Mrs. MacDonald, and the policemen that 
had them in custody, entered the carriage and were driven to 
the town hall. 

Here again, as on a former occasion, the viscount, in alight- 
ing, ordered the coachman to keep the carriage waiting for him. 
Then he and his party passed through the same halls and ante- 
chambers, guarded by policemen, and entered the magistrate’s 
office. 

Sir Alexander McKetchum was already in his seat on the 
little raised platform. His clerk sat at a table below him. On 
his right hand stood several officers of the law. On his left 
hand stood Judge Merlin, Ishmael Worth, and the witnesses 
that had been summoned for the prosecution. 

The Policeman McRae led his charge up in front of the mag- 
istrate, and taking off his hat, said: 

“Here are the prisoners, your worship.” 

Lord Vincent, as with the purpose of proving himself a gen- 
tleman at least in external manners, even under the most 
trjdng circumstances, advanced and bowed to the magistrate. 

Sir Alexander acknowledged his salute by a nod, and then 
said : 

“ Noo, then, as ye are here, me laird, we may as weel proceed 
wi’ the investigation.” 

“I beg your pardon, sir; I am expecting my counsel,” said 
the viscount. 

“Aweel! I suppose we maun wait a bit,” said the magis- 
trate. 

But at this moment the counsel for the prisoner hurried into 
the office. 

“We have waited dor you, Mr. Bruce,” said the viscount re- 
proachfully. 


393 


THE VISCOUNT^S FALL. 

I am very sorry that you should have been obliged to do so, 
my lord! But the truth is, I have been to the telegraph office, 
to send a message of inquiry at the last moment to your lord- 
ship’s London bankers, to ask if the Earl of Hurstmonceux had 
yet been heard from. I waited for the answer, which has but 
just arrived, and which has proved unsatisfactory.” 

» ‘‘ The earl has not written to his London bankers, then? ” 

“ No, my lord.” 

“Are you ready for the examination?” 

“ Quite, my lord.” 

“Aweel, then, I suppose we may proceed,” said Sir Alex- 
ander. 

“ At your worship’s convenience,” replied Mr. Bruce, with 
a bow. 

And thereupon the proceedings commenced. The magis- 
trate took up the warrant that had been issued for the arrest 
of the prisoners, and read it to them aloud. Then addressing 
them both, he said: 

“ Malcolm, Laird Vincent, and you, Faustina Dugald, are 
herein charged wi’ having felonious conspired against the guid 
character o’ Claudia, Viscountess Vincent, and to farther said 
conspiracy, wi’ having abducted and sold into slavery the 
bodies of three negroes, named herein — Catherine Mortimer, 
James Mortimer, and Sarah Sims; whilk are felony against 
the peace and dignity o’ the Queen’s majesty, and punishable 
by penal servitude, according to the statute in sich cases made 
and provided. What hae ye to say for yoursel’s in answer to 
this charge ? ” 

“ I deny it in toto. And I think it infamous that I should be 
called to answer such an insulting charge,” said the viscount 
with a fine assumption of virtuous indignation. 

“And sae do I think it infamous; I agree wi’ ye there, lad! 
But as to whilk pairty the infamy attaches to, there we may 
differ,” said the magistrate, nodding. 

The viscount drew himself up in haughty silence, as though 
he disdained farther reply. 

“And noo, Faustina Dugald, what hae ye to say for your- 
sel’?” 

“ I did not conspire ! I did not abduct ! I did not sell into 
slavery any negro bodies! I did not do anything wrong! IMot 
I myself!” cried Faustina vehemently. 

“ There, there, that will do. We will hear the testimony on<» 


394 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

this case. Let Ishmael Worth, of Washington, come forward,” 
said the magistrate. 

Ishmael advanced, bowed to the magistrate, and stood waiting. 

“ Eoss, administer the oath,” said the magistrate. 

The clerk took a copy of the Holy Scriptures and held them 
towards Ishmael, at the same time dictating the oath, accord- 
ing to the custom of such officials. 

But Ishmael, at the very onset, courteously interrupted him 
by saying gently : 

“I am conscientiously opposed to taking an oath; but I will 
make a solemn affirmation of the truth of what I am about to 
state.” 

There was some objection made by the counsel for the pris- 
oners, some hesitation upon the part of the clerk, some consul- 
tation with the magistrate; and finally it was decided that Mr. 
Worth’s solemn affirmation should be accepted in lieu of an 
oath. 

^‘I am sorry,” said Ishmael courteously, “to have made this 
difficulty about a seemingly small matter; but in truth, no 
point of conscience is really a small matter.” 

“ Certainly no,” responded the magistrate. 

Ishmael then made his formal affirmation, and gave in his 
testimony. First of all he identified the negroes — Catherine 
Mortimer, James Mortimer, and Sarah Sims — as the servants, 
first of Judge Randolph Merlin, of Maryland, and of his daugh- 
ter Claudia, Lady Vincent. Then he testified to the fact of 
the finding of the negroes, each in a state of slavery, in the 
island of Cuba; their recovery by Judge Merlin; and their re- 
turn, in his company, to Scotland. 

At the conclusion of this evidence the counsel for the pris- 
oners made some sarcastic remarks about the reliability of the 
testimony of a witness who refused to make his statement upon 
oath; but he was sharply rebuked for his pains by the magis- 
trate. 

“Judge Randolph Merlin will please to come forward,” was 
the next order of the clerk. 

“I have no conscientious scruples about taking an oath, 
though I certainly honor the scruples of others. And I am 
ready to corroborate upon oath the testimony of the last wit- 
ness,” said Judge Merlin, advancing and standing before the 
magistrate. The oath was duly administered to him, and he 
began his statement. 


THE viscount's FALL. 


395 


He also identified tlie three negroes as his own family serv- 
ants, who were transferred to his daughter’s service on the occa- 
sion of her marriage with Lord Vincent, and who were taken 
by her to Scotland. He likewise testified to the facts of finding 
the three negroes in the city of Havana in a condition of 
slavery, and the repurchasing and transporting them to Scot- 
land. 

The counsel for the accused took various exceptions to the 
evidence given in by this witness; but his exceptions were set 
aside by the magistrate as vexatious and immaterial. 

Then he cross-examined the witness as severely as if the case, 
instead of being in a magistrate’s office, were before the Lords 
Commissioners of the Assizes. But this cross-examination only 
had the effect of emphasizing the testimony of the witness, and 
impressing the facts more firmly upon the mind of the magis- 
trate. And then, as the counsel could make nothing by perse- 
verance in this course, he permitted the witness to sit down. 

“ Catherine Mortimer will come forward,” said the clerk. 

“ That’s me ! I’s got leabe to talk at last ! ” said old Katie, 
with a malignant nod at the accused. And she stepped up, 
folded her arms upon her bosom, threw back her head, and 
stood with an air of conscious importance most wonderful to 
behold. 

“Your name is Catherine Mortimer?” said the clerk. 

“Yes, young marse — yes, honey, dat my name — Catherine 
Mortimer. Which Catherine were the name giben me by my 
sponsibles in baptism ; and Mortimer were de name ’f erred upon 
me in holy matrimony by my late demented ’panion; which he 
was de coachman to ole Comedy Burghe, as fought de Brit- 
ishers in the war of eighteen hundred and twelve.” 

“ What the de’il is the woman talking about ? ” here put in 
the magistrate. 

“ She is giving testimony in this case,” sarcastically an- 
swered the counsel for the accused. 

“ My good woman, we don’t want to hear any of your private 
history previous to the time of your first landing on these 
shores. We want to know what happened since. Your name, 
you say, is Catherine Mortimer ” 

“ Hi, young marse, what I tell you ? Sure it is ; Catherine 
Mortimer, ’spectable widder ’oman, ’cause Mortimer, poor man, 
died of ’sumption when he was ’bout forty-five years of age, 
which I hab libed ebber since in ’spectable widderhood, and 


396 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

wouldn’t like to see de man as would hab de imperance to ax 
me to change my condition,” said Katie, rolling herself from 
side to side in the restlessness of her intense self-consciousness. 

“ Catherine Mortimer, do you understand the nature of an 
oath ? ” inquired the clerk. 

“ Hi, young marse, what should ’vent me ? Where you think 
I done been libbin all my days? You mus’ think how I’s a bar- 
barium from the Stingy Isles ! ” replied Katie indignantly. 

“ I ask you — do you understand the nature of an oath, and 
I require you to give a straightforward answer,” said the clerk. 

“And I think it’s berry ’suitin’ in you to ax a ’spectable 
colored ’oman any such question. Do I understan’ de natur’ 
ob an oaf? You might ’s well ax me if I knows I’s got a mor- 
tal soul to be save’! Yes, I does unnerstan’ de natur’ ob an 
oaf. I knows how, if anybody takes a false one, which it won’t 
be Catherine Mortimer, they’ll go right straight down to de 
debbil — and serbe ’em right 1 ” 

“ Very well, then,” said the clerk. And he put a small Bible 
into her hand and dictated the usual oath, which she repeated 
with an awful solemnity of manner that must have carried con- 
viction of her perfect orthodoxy to the minds of the most skep- 
tical cavilers. 

“Your name, you say, is Catherine Mortimer?” said the 
clerk, as if requiring her to repeat this fact also under oath. 

The repetition of the question nettled Katie. 

“My good g’acious alibe,” she said, “what I tell you? You 
think you gwine catch me in a lie by ’peating of questions ober 
and ober in dqt a way ? FTow look here, young marse, I aint been 
tellin’ of you no lies, and if I was a-lying, you couldn’t catch 
me dat a way, ’cause I’se got too good a membery, dere! So, 
now I tell you ag’in my name is Catherine Mortimer, and like- 
v?6se it aint Gorilla, as my lordship and his shamwally used to 
call me. I done found out what dat means now! It means 
monkey! which is a ’fernally false! ’cause my fambily aint got 
no monkey blood in ’em. ’Dough I’d rather be a monkey dan 
a lordship, if I couldn’t be no better lordship den some ! ” 
said Katie, with a vindictive nod of her head towards the vis- 
count. 

“ What is the creature discoorsing anent ? ” inquired the 
perplexed magistrate. 

“ She is giving in her evidence,” replied the counsel for the 
accused. 


THE VISCOUNT S FALL. 


397 

“ You dry up ! Who’s you ? Mus’ be my lordship’s new 
shamwally making yourself so smart. Reckon I’ll give evidence 
enough to fix you and my lordship out ! ” snapped Katie. 

“ Kow, then, tell us what you know of this case,” said the 
clerk. 

What I know oh dis case ? Why, in de f us’ place, I know how 
my lordship dere — and a perty lordship he is — and de oder sham- 
wally, which I don’t see here present, and dat whited saltpeter, 
ought ebery single one oh dem to be hung up as high as Harem. 
Dere ! dat what I know ; and I hope you’ll do it, ole marse ! ” 
said Katie vindictively. 

“Whisht, whisht, my good woman! Ye are no here to pro- 
nounce judgment, but to gi’e testimony. Confine yoursel’ to 
the facts ! ” said the magistrate. 

But this order was more easily made than obeyed. It was 
very difficult for Katie to confine herself to the statement of 
facts, for the reason that she seemed to imagine herself prose- 
cutor, witness, judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into one. 
It took all the tact of the clerk to get from her what could be 
received as purely legal evidence. 

Katie’s testimony would be nothing new to the reader. Her 
statement under oath to the magistrate was the same in effect 
that she had made to Judge Merlin. And although it was ra- 
ther a rambling narrative, mixed up with a good deal of bitter 
invective against the accused, and gratuitous advice to the 
bench, and acute suggestions of the manner of retribution that 
ought to be measured out to the culprits, yet still the shrewd 
magistrate managed to get from it a tolerably clear idea of the 
nature of the conspiracy formed against the honor of Lady Vin- 
cent and the motive for the abduction of the negroes. And al- 
though the counsel for the accused labored hard to get this evi- 
dence set aside, it was accepted as good. 

“James Mortimer,” called the clerk. 

And Jim walked forward and stood respectfully waiting 
to be examined. 

The clerk, after putting the same questions to Jim that he 
had put to Jim’s mother, and receiving the most satisfactory 
answers, administered the usual oath and proceeded with the 
examination. 

Jim said he was the son of the last witness, and he corrobo- 
rated the statements made by her, as far as his own personal 
experience corresponded with hers. And although he was se- 


398 self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

verely cross-examined, he never varied from his first story, and 
his testimony was held good. 

Sarah Sims,” was the next called. 

And Sally advanced modestly and stood respectfully before 
the magistrate. 

Having satisfactorily answered the preliminary questions 
that were put to her, she took the prescribed oath with a deep 
reverence of manner that prepossessed everyone, except the ac- 
cused and their counsel, in her favor. 

And then she gave her testimony in a clear, simple, concise 
manner, that met the approval of all who heard her. The coun- 
sel for the accused cross-examined her with ingenuity, but 
without success. 

Sally’s testimony was decidedly the most conclusive of any 
given by the three negroes. And she was allowed to sit down. 

Then the counsel for the accused arose and made a speech, 
in which he ingeniously sought to do away with the effect of 
all the evidence that had been given in against the prisoners. 
He took exception to Ishmael’s evidence because Mr. Worth 
had declined to give it under oath; to Judge Merlin’s, because, 
he said, that ancient man was so well stricken with years as 
to be falling into his dotage; to old Katie’s, because most de- 
cidedly he declared she was totally unreliable, being half 
monkey, half maniac, and whole knave; to Jim’s, because he 
averred him to be wholly under the influence of others; to 
Sally’s, for the same reason. It would be monstrous, he said, 
to send a nobleman and a lady to trial upon such evidence as 
had been giveji in by such witnesses as had appeared there. 
And he ended by demanding that his clients should be instantly 
and honorably discharged from custody, and particularly that 
they should not be remanded. 

And he. sat down. 

Dinna ye fash yersel’, laddie ! I hae na the least intention 
to remaund the accused. I s’all commit them for trial,” said 
the magistrate. Then looking down upon his clerk, he said: 

“Ross, mon, mak’ out the warrants.” 

A perfect storm of remonstrance, strange to witness in a 
magistrate’s office, arose. The lawyer sprang upon his feet and 
vehemently opposed the committal. Lord Vincent indignantly 
exclaimed against the outrage of sending a nobleman of the 
house of Hurstmonceux to trial. Faustina went into hys- 
terics, and was attended by Mrs. MacDonald. 


399 


the viscouot’s fall. 

Meanwhile the clerk c(X)lly made out the warrants and placed 
them in the hands of McRae for execution. That prompt po- 
liceman proceeded to take possession of his prisoners. But the 
storm increased; Faustina’s screams awoke the welkin; Lord 
Vincent’s loud denunciation accompanied her in bass keys; the 
lawyer’s wild expostulations and gesticulations arose above all. 

Sir Alexander had borne all this tempestuous opposition very 
patiently at first; but the patience of the most long-suffering 
man may give out. Sir Alexander’s did. 

“ McRae, remove the prisoners. And, laddie,” he said to the 
denunciatory lawyer, gin ye dinna hand your tongue. I’ll com- 
mit yoursel’ for contempt ! ” 

Lord Vincent, seeing that all opposition must be worse than 
vain, quietly yielded the point and followed his conductor. But 
Faustina’s animal nature got the ascendency, and she resisted, 
fought and screamed like a wildcat. It took half a dozen po- 
licemen to put her into the carriage, and then the handcuffs 
had to be put on her. 

As soon as quiet was restored another case was called on. 
It was that of Frisbie, the ex-valet, charged with the murder 
of Ailsie Dunbar. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 


THE FATE OP THE VISCOUNT. 

Oh, vanity of youthful blood, 

So by misuse to poison good. 

Eeason awakes and views unbarred 
The sacred gates she wished to guard, 

Sees approach the harpy law. 

And Nemesis beholds with awe, 

Eeady to seize tlie poor remains 
That vice has left of all his gains. 

Cold penitence, lame after-thought. 

With fear, despair, and horror fraught. 

Call back the giiilty pleasures dead. 

Whom he has robbed and whom betrayed ! 

—Bishop Hoadley. 

When the carriage containing the prisoners reached the jail, 
they were taken out to be conducted to the warden’s office. The 
viscount, who was in a mood of suppressed fury, was attended 
by Policeman McRae and followed by old Cuthbert, broken- 
hearted by the dishonor of his master. 

Faustina, who had raged herself into a state of exhaustion 


400 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

and consequently of quietude, was attended by policeman 
Christie and supported by Mrs. MacDonald who tenderly 
soothed and flattered her. 

It was a busy day in the warden’s office, and the warden had 
but little time to bestow on these interesting prisoners. 

“ And sae they ha’e committed ye for trial, me laird, mair’s 
the pity; and the puir lassie too; me heart is sair for her,” said 
Auld Saundie Gra’ame, as they were led up to his desk to have 
their names re-entered upon the prison-books. 

“ It was a most unwarrantable proceeding ! a monstrous abuse 
of office! an outrage that should be punished by immediate im- 
peachment ! ” burst forth the viscount, in a fury. 

“As to that, me laird, I ha’e never yet seen the prisoner 
enter these wa’s wi’ ony verra great esteem for the authorities 
that sent him here,” dryly replied Auld Saundie. 

Then turning to an under-warden he said : 

“ Ye’ll convey the prisoners back to the cells occupied by 
them before.” 

And Faustina was carried back to the woman’s ward, fol- 
lowed by the sympathizing Mrs. MacDonald, who promised to 
remain with her until the hour of closing up. 

And the viscount, attended by Cuthbert, was conducted to his 
corner cell, there to abide until the day of trial. 

Old Cuthbert remained with his master until he was sum- 
moned to drive Mrs. MacDonald back to the castle. 

Several days passed. Every morning Mrs. MacDonald, driven 
by Cuthbert in the family carriage, came to town, to spend the 
day in the cell with Faustina, while Cuthbert remained in 
attendance upon the viscount. And every evening she returned 
to the castle. 

The Earl of Hurstmonceux did not come. But news at 
length came of him. His bankers wrote that he was out on 
his yacht, his exact latitude being unknown. 

Lord Vincent, now that he was fully committed for trial, 
really did not seem to be anxious for his father’s return. Per- 
haps he would rather not have met the earl under the present 
circumstances. lie held daily consultations with his counsel. 
These were entirely confidential. Being assured by Mr. Bruce 
that it was essentially necessary the counsel should be in posses- 
sion of all the facts, the prisoner made a tolerably clean breast 
of it, at least so far as the abduction of the negroes was con- 
cerned; he exercised some little reticence in the matters of his 


THE FATE OF THE VISCOUNT. 401 

relations with. Faustina and his conspiracy against Lady Vin- 
cent. 

Mr. Bruce of course put the fairest construction upon every- 
thing; but still he could not help feeling the darkest misgivings 
as to the result of the approaching trial. And the viscount, 
rendered keenly observant by intense anxiety, detected these 
doubts in the mind of his counsel, and became daily more de- 
spairing. 

He looked forward to the dishonor of a public trial with 
burning indignation; to the possible, nay probable, conviction 
and sentence that might follow with shrinking dread, and to 
the execution of that sentence with stony horror. 

Penal servitude! Great Heaven! penal servitude for him, 
so high-born, so fastidious, so luxurious in all his habits ! Penal 
servitude for him, the Viscount Vincent! 

He had often made one of a party of sight-seers, visiting the 
prisons, the hulks, the quarries, where the prisoners were con- 
fined at work. He had seen them in the coarse prison garb, 
working in chains, under the broiling sun of summer, and un- 
der the bitter cold of winter. He had seen them at their loath- 
some meals and in their stifling sleeping pens. He had gazed 
upon them with eyes of haughty, cold, unsympathizing curi- 
osity. To him and his friends they formed but a spectacle of 
interest or amusement, like a drama. 

And now to think that he might, nay, probably would, soon 
make one of their shameful number! The Viscount Vincent 
working in chains ; gazed at by his former companions ; pointed 
out to curious strangers! That was the appalling picture for- 
ever present to his imagination. 

How bitterly he deplored the crimes that had exposed him to 
this fate. How deeply he cursed the siren whose fatal beauty 
had lured him to sin. How passionately he longed for death, as 
the only deliverance from the memory of the past, the terrors of 
the present, the horrors of the future. Hay and night that 
appalling future stared him in the face. Hay and night the 
picture of himself working in chains, pointed out, stared at, 
was, before his mind’s eyes. 

By day it obtruded between him and the face of any visitor 
that might be with him. Even when in consultation with his 
counsel his mind would wander from the subject in hand, and 
his imagination would be drawn away to the contemplation of 
that dread picture. 


402 SELF-EAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

By night it would rise up in the darkness and nearly drive 
him mad. 

He could not eat, he could not sleep. He passed his days in 
pacing to and fro in his narrow cell, and his nights in tossing 
about upon his restless bed. His sufferings were pitiable, and 
his worst enemy must have felt sorry for him. 

His condition moved the compassion of the warden, and 
every indulgence that was in the power of old Saundie to be- 
stow was granted to him. And as he was not yet absolutely 
convicted, but only waiting his trial, these indulgences were 
considerable. Old Cuthbert was allowed to visit him freely 
during the day, and to bring him anything in the way of food, 
drink, clothing, books, stationery, etc., that he required. And 
very little supervision was exercised over these matters. 

Meantime as the Assizes were sitting, and the -docket was not 
very full, it was thought that the trial would soon come on. 

On the Wednesday following the committal of the viscount 
the trial of the murderer, Frisbie, which stood before that of 
his master on the docket, did come on. The detective police 
had been busy during the interval between Frisbie’s arrest and 
arraignment, and they had succeeded in collecting a mass of 
evidence and a number of witnesses besides old Katie. 

Frisbie, however, was defended by the best counsel that mere 
money could procure. There are many among the best lawyers 
who will not take up a bad case at any price. But Frisbie, as 
I said, had the best among the unscrupulous that money could 
buy. His master of course paid the fees. His counsel very 
gratuitously instructed him to plead ‘‘Hot Guilty,” and of 
course he did plead “Kot Guilty.” And his counsel did the 
best thing they could to establish his innocence. But the evi- 
dence against him was conclusive. And on the morning of the 
second day of his trial Frisbie was found guilty and sentenced 
to death. But a short period between sentence and execution, 
was then allowed in Scotland. The execution of Frisbie was 
fixed for the Monday following his conviction. 

From the hour that Frisbie had been brought to trial the vis- 
count had experienced the most vehement accession of anxiety. 
He refused all food during the day, and he paced the floor of his 
cell all night. And well he might; for he knew that on that 
trial revelations would be made under oath that would not tend 
to whiten Lord Vincent’s character. 

On Thursday noon Mr. Bruce entered his celL 


THE FATE OF THE VISCOUNT. 403 

the trial ” began the viscount; but he could not get 

on ; his intense emotion choked him. 

“The trial is over; the jury brought in their verdict half 
an hour ago,” replied the counsel gravely. 

“ And Frisbie is For Heaven’s sake speak! ” gasped the 

viscount. 

“ Frisbie is convicted ! ” said the lawyer. 

Lord Vincent, pale before, turned paler still as he sank into 
the chair and gazed upon the lawyer, who was greatly wonder- 
ing at the excessive emotion of his client. 

“ When is the execution fixed to take place ? ” 

“ On Monday, of course.” 

“ Is there — can there be any hope of a pardon for him ? ” 

“Hot the shadow of a hope.” 

“ Or — of a commutation of his sentence ? ” 

“It is madness to think of it.” 

“ Is there no chance of a respite ? ” 

“ I tell you it is madness, and worse than madness, to imag- 
ine such a thing as a pardon, a commutation, or even a respite 
for that wretch. The crime brought home to him was one of 
the darkest dye — the base assassination of the girl that loved 
and trusted and was true to him. To fancy any mercy possible 
for that miscreant, except it be the infinite, all-embracing, all- 
pardoning mercy of God, is simply frenzy.” 

“And the execution is to take place on Monday. The time 
is very short,” said the viscount, falling into a reverie. 

The lawyer began to speak of the viscount’s own afiairs; he 
mentioned several circumstances connected with the viscount’s 
case that had become known to himself only through the testi- 
mony of certain witnesses on Frisbie’s trial, and he wished to 
consult the viscount upon them. 

But Lord Vincent seemed to act very strangely; he was ab- 
sent-minded, stupid, distracted — in fact altogether unfit for 
consultation with his counsel. 

And so, after a few unsuccessful attempts to rouse him, gain 
his attention, and fix it upon the subject at issue, the lawyer 
arose, said that he would call again the next morning, and 
bowed and left the cell. 

The shame the viscount suffered was in the knowledge of the 
dishonorable facts relating to himself that had been brought 
to light on Frisbie’s trial; the great dread he felt was that 
Frisbie, at the near approach of death, would open his heart 


404 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

and make a full confession; and his horrible certainty was that 
such a confession was all that was wanted to ensure his own 
conviction. 

Again on this Thursday night he could not sleep, but paced 
the narrow limits of his cell the whole night through, in un- 
utterable agony of mind. Never was the appalling vision of 
himself in the shameful prison garb, working in chains, pointed 
out as an interesting object and gazed at by curious strangers, 
so awfully vivid as upon this night. 

The next morning, when his old servant Cuthbert entered the 
cell as usual, he was frightened at his master’s dreadful looks. 

“ Will I call a doctor to your lairdship ? ” inquired the old 
man. 

No, Cuthbert; I am not ill. I am only suffering for want of 
rest. I have not been able to sleep since Frisbie’s arraignment. 
He is convicted, you know.” 

“ Aye, me laird, I ken a’ anent it. My brither Randy was on 
the jury, and he tauld me it a’ ower a pot o’ ale in the taproom 
o’ the ‘ Highlander,’ where I was resting while my horses fed,” 
said the old man gravely. 

A dark, crimson flush overspread the face of the viscount. 
Cuthbert had heard all about it. Cuthbert had heard, then, 
those disgraceful revelations concerning himself. He need not 
have blushed before Cuthbert. That loyal-hearted old servant?’ 
could not have been brought to believe such evil of his beloved 
young master, as all that came to. And his next words proved 
this. 

“ There must ’a’ been a deal o’ fause swearing, me laird,” 
he said. 

The viscount looked up and caught at the words. 

“ Yes, Cuthbert, a great deal of false swearing, indeed, as far 
as I am concerned, in that testimony.” 

“ Aye, me laird ! I tauld them so in the taproom. There was 
a wheen idle loons collected there, drinking and smoking and 
talking anent the business o’ their betters. And they were, a’ 
unco’ 'free in their comments. But when they mentioned your 
lairdship’s name in connection wi’ sic infamy, I tauld them a* 
weel that they were a pack o’ fause knaves to believe sic 
lees.” 

“Yes. The execution is to take place on Monday morning, 
Cuthbert.” 

“Aye, me laird. I hope the puir, sinfu’ lad will mak’ guid 


THE FATE OF THE VISCOUNT. 405 

use o’ the short time left him and repent o’ a’ his misdeeds, and 
seek his peace wi’ his Maker,” said the old man solemnly. 

The viscount heaved a heavy sigh; a sigh that seemed laden 
with a weight of agony. 

“ Cuthbert,” he said, you know that I may not go to see 
the condemned man, being a prisoner myself; but you, being a 
fellow-servant, and at liberty, may be permitted to do so. I 
wish to charge you with a note to deliver to him; but you must 
deliver it secretly, Cuthbert; secretly, mind you.” 

“ Yes, me laird.” 

?Che viscount sat down to his little table and wrote the fol- 
lowing note: 

‘^Frisbie: While there is life there is hope; therefore make 
no confession; for if you do, that confession will destroy your 
last possibility of pardon or commutation. 

Vincent.” 

He folded and sealed this note and delivered it to Cuthbert, 
saying : 

“ Conceal it somewhere about your person, and go to the 
warden’s office and ask leave to see your old fellow-servant, 
and no doubt you will get it. And when you see him deliver 
this note secretly, as I told you.” 

“ Verra weel, me laird,” said the old man, going and knocking 
on the door of the cell to be let out. The turnkey opened the 
door, released him, and locked it again. And the viscount, left 
alone, paced up and down the floor in unutterable distress of 
mind. An hour passed and then Cuthbert re-entered the cell, 
wearing a frightened visage. 

“Well, Cuthbert, well! did you find an opportunity of de- 
livering the note ? ” 

“ Yes, me laird, I did,” said the old man hesitatingly. 

“ Secretly?” 

“Y-yes, me laird!” 

The viscount looked relieved of a great fear. He saw the great 
disturbance of his servant’s face , but ascribed it to the effect of 
his interview with the condemned man, and sympathy for his 
awful position, and he inquired: 

“ How did Frisbie look, Cuthbert ? ” 

“Like a ghaist; na less! pale as deeth; trembling like a leaf 
about to fa’ ! and waefully distraught in his mind ! ” 


#4 


406 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

he get an opportunity of reading my note while you 
were with him ? ” 

“ Oh, me laird, I maun just tell you ! I hope there was na 
ony great secret in that same note.” 

The viscount started and stared wildly at the speaker, but 
then everything alarmed Lord Vincent now. 

^^What do you mean?” he asked: 

“ Oh, me laird ! I watched my opportunity, and I gi’e him 
the note in secrecy, as your lairdship tauld me; and I stooped 
and whispered till him in his lugs to keep the note till he was 
his lane, and read it then. But the doitted fule, gude forgi’e 
me, didna seem to compreheend; but was loike ane dazed. He 
just lookit at me and then proceeded to open the note before 
my face. Whereupon the turnkey lad takit it out fra his hand, 
saying that the prisoner, being a condemned man, maunna 
receive ony faulded paper that hadna passit under the obser- 
vation of the governor, because sic faulded packets might con- 
tain strychnine or other subtle poison. And sae he took pos- 
session o’ your note, me laird, before the prisoner could read a 
word of it; and said he maun carry it to the governor whilk 
I suppose he did.” 

To see the consternation of the viscount was dreadful. 

“ Oh, Cuthbert, Cuthbert, the cowardice of that miserable 
wretch will ruin me ! ” he exclaimed bitterly. 

“ Oh, me laird, dinna rail at the puir sinfu’ soul for cow- 
ardice. Sure mesel’ would be a coward gin I had the waefu’ 
woodie before my ees. ’Deed, me laird, and me heart is sair 
for the mischance o’ the note.” 

“ It cannot be mended now, Cuthbert.” 

The time was drawing near for the closing of the prison 
doors, and the old man took a dutiful leave of his master and 
departed. 

On his way downstairs he was called into the warden’s office, 
and while there he was severely reprimanded for conveying let- 
ters to the convict, and forbidden under pain of punishment to 
repeat the offense. The old man bore the rebuke very patiently, 
and at the lecture that was bestowed upon him he humbly 
bowed and took his leave. 

This night the viscount, exhausted by long vigilance and 
fasting and by intense anxiety, threw himself upon his bed 
and slept for a few hours. The next morning, Saturday, in his 
restless trouble he arose early. And in the comse of the day he 


ME EAtE OF THE VISCOtJOT. 407 

questioned everyone who came into his cell concerning the state 
of mind of the condemned man. 

Some could give him no news at all; others could tell him 
something; but they differed in their accounts of Frisbie — one 
saying that he had asked for the prison chaplain, who had gone 
in to him; a second that he was very contrite; a third that he 
was only terribly frightened; a fourth that he was as firm as a 
rock, declined to confess his guilt and persisted in declaring his 
innocence. The viscount endeavored to believe the last state- 
ment. 

The miserable day passed without bringing anything more 
satisfactory to Lord Vincent. And the night that followed was 
a sleepless one to him. 

Sunday came ; the last day of life that was left to the wretched 
valet. On Sunday it was obligatory upon all the prisoners 
confined in that jail to attend divine service in the prison 
chapel. They had no choice in this matter; unless they were 
confined to their beds by illness they were obliged to go. 

On this particular Sunday no prisoner felt disposed to place 
himself on the sick list. Quite the contrary. For, on the other 
hand, many prisoners who were really ill, in the infirmary, de- 
clared themselves well enough to get up and go to chapel. 

The reason of their sudden zeal in the performance of their 
religious duties was simply this : The “ condemned sermon,” 
as it was called, was to be preached that day. And the con- 
demned man, who was to be executed in the morning, was to 
be present under guard. And people generally have a morbid 
curiosity to gaze upon a man who is doomed to death. 

Lord Vincent was ill enough to be exempt from the duty of 
appearing in the chapel, and haughty enough to recoil from mix- 
ing publicly with his fellow-prisoners; but he was intensely 
anxious to see Frisbie and judge for himself, from the man’s 
appearance, whether he seemed likely to make a confession. 

And so, when the turnkey whose duty it was to attend to 
this ward came around to unlock the doors and marshal the pris- 
oners in order to march them to the chapel. Lord Vincent, with- 
out demur, fell into rank and went with them. 

The chapel was small, and the prisoners present on this day 
filled it full. The set to which Lord Vincent belonged were 
marched in among the last. Consequently they sat at the lower 
end of the chapel. 

Lord Vincent’s height enabled him to look over the heads of 


408 self-eaised; oe, from the depths. 

most persons present. And he looked around for Frisbie. At 
length he found him. 

The condemned pew was immediately before the pulpit, fac- 
ing the preacher. In it sat Frisbie, unfettered, but guarded by 
two turnkeys, one of whom sat on each side of him. But Fris- 
bie’s back was towards Lord Vincent, and so the viscount could 
not possibly get a glimpse of the expression of his face. 

He next looked to see if he could find the selfish vixen who 
had lured him to his ruin, and whom he now hated with all the 
power of hatred latent in his soul. But a partition eight feet 
high, running nearly the whole length of the chapel and stop- 
ping only within a few feet of the pulpit, separated the women’s 
from the men’s side of the church, so that even if she had been 
present he could not have seen her. 

The wages of sin is death.” 

Such was the text from which the sermon was preached to 
the prisoners that day. But the viscount heard scarcely one 
word of it. Intensely absorbed in his own reflections, he paid 
no attention to the services. At their close he bent his eyes 
again upon the form of Frisbie. 

His perseverance was rewarded. As they arose to leave 
the chapel Frisbie also arose and turned around. And the vis- 
count got a full view of his face — a pale, wild, despairing face. 

“He is desperately frightened, if he is not penitent. That 
is the face of a man who, in the forlorn hope of saving his life, 
will deny his guilt until the rope is around his neck, and then, 
in the forlorn hope of saving his soul, confess his crime under 
the gallows,” said the viscount to himself, as he was marched 
back to his cell. 

In that the viscount wronged Frisbie. The great adversary 
himself is said to be not so black as he is painted. 

That same night, that last solemn night of the criminal’s 
life, the prison chaplain stayed with the wretched man. Mr. 
Godfree was a fervent Christian; one whose faith could move 
mountains; one who would never abandon a soul, however sin- 
ful, to sink into perdition while that soul remained in its mortal 
tenement. Such men seem to have a Christ-conferred power 
to save to the uttermost. 

He kept close to Frisbie; he would not permit himself to be 
discouraged by the sinfulness, the cowardice, and the utter 
baseness of the poor wretch. He pitied him, talked to him, 
prayed with him. 


THE FATE OF THE VISCOUNT. 409 

With all his deep criminality Frisbie was certainly not hard- 
ened. He listened to the exhortations of the chaplain, he wept 
bitterly, and joined in the prayers. And in the silence of that 
night he made a full confession to the chaplain, with the re- 
quest that it might be made public the next day. 

He confessed the murder of Ailsie Dunbar; but he denied 
that the crime had been premeditated, as it had been made to 
appear at the trial. He killed her in a fit of passion, he said; 
and he had never known an hour’s peace since. Remorse for 
the crime and terror for its consequences had made his life 
wretched. His master. Lord Vincent, he said, had been an 
eye-witness to the murder; but had withheld himself from de- 
nouncing him, because he wanted to lice the power he had thus 
obtained to compel him to enter a conspiracy against Lady 
Vincent. And here followed a full account of the plot and its 
execution. 

Frisbie went on to say that nothing but the terrors of death 
induced him to become a party to that base conspiracy against 
the honor of a noble lady, and that he had suffered almost as 
much remorse for his crimes against Lady Vincent as for his 
murder of Ailsie Dunbar. 

All this Mr. Godfree took down in short-hand from the lips 
of the conscience-stricken man. 

And then, as Frisbie expressed the desire to spend the re- 
mainder of the night in devotion, Mr. Godfree decided to re- 
main with him. He read aloud to the convict portions of 
Scripture suited to his sad case; he prayed fervently with him 
for the pardon of his sins ; and then he sang for him a consoling 
hymn. 

Oh, strangely sounded that sacred song arising in the deep 
silence of the condemned cell. So the night passed there. 

But how did it pass in the viscount’s cell? Sleeplessly, 
anxiously, wretchedly, until long after midnight, when he fell 
asleep. He was awakened by a sound of sawing, dragging, and 
hammering, that seemed to be in the prison yard beneath his 
windows. It continued a long time, and effectually banished 
slumber from his weary eyes. 

What could they be doing at that unusual hour? he asked 
himself. And he crept from his bed and peeped through the 
grated window. But the night was over-clouded and deeply 
dark from that darkness that precedes the dawn. He could 
see nothing, but he could hear the sound of voices amid the 


410 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

noise of work; although the words, at the distance his window 
was from the ground, were inaudible. 

He lay down again no wiser than he had risen up. After 
an hour or two the noise ceased, and he dropped into that sleep 
of prostration that more resembles worn-out nature’s swooning 
than healthy slumber. 


CHAPTER XLVn. 

THE EXECUTION. 

What shall he be, ere night? — Perchance a thing 
O’er which the raven flaps her funeral wing. 

— Byron. 

It was broad daylight when the viscount was ag^Pin awakened, 
and this time by the solemn tolling of the prison bell. He 
sprang out of bed and looked out of the window and recoiled 
in horror. There in the angle of the prison yard stood the gal- 
lows, grimly painted black. That was what the carpenters had 
been at work on all night. 

And the tolling of the prison bell warned him that the last 
hour of the condemned man had come; that he was even now 
leaving his cell for the gallows. Lord Vincent staggered back 
and fell upon his bed. In the fate of Erisbie he seemed to feel 
a forewarning of the certain retribution that was lying in wait 
for himseK. 

There came a sound of footsteps along the passage. They 
paused before his cell. Someone unlocked the door. And, to 
the viscount’s astonishment, the procession that was on its 
way to the gallows entered his presence. There was Erisbie, 
still unbound, but guarded by a half a dozen policemen and turn- 
keys, and attended by the undersheriff of the county, and the 
warden and the chaplain of the prison. 

Lord Vincent stared in astonishment, wondering what brought 
them there; but he found no words in which to put the ques- 
tion. 

The chaplain constituted himself the spokesman of the party. 

^‘My lord, this unhappy man wishes to see you before he 
dies; and the sheriff has kindly accorded him the privilege,” 
said Mr. Godfree.. 

Lord Vincent looked from the chaplain to the prisoner in 


THE EXECUTIOlSr. 411 

perplexity and terror. What could the condemned man, in the 
last hour of his life, want with him? 

Frisbie spoke: 

“ My lord, I am a dying man ; but I could not meet death 
with guilty secrets on my soul. My lord, I have told every- 
thing, the whole truth about the death of poor Ailsie, and the 
plot against my lady. I could not help it, my lord. I could not 
leave the world with such wrong unrighted behind me. I could 
not so face my Creator. I have come to tell you this, my lord, 
and ask you to forgive me if, in doing this, I have been com- 
pelled to do you harm,” said the man, speaking humbly, depre- 
catingly, almost affectionately. 

‘‘God forgive you, Frisbie, but you have ruined me!” was 
the somewhat strange reply of the viscount, as he turned away; 
for it seemed to those who heard him that he was asking the 
Lord to forgive the sinner, not for his sins, but for his confes- 
sion of them. 

The procession of death left the cell; the door was locked^, 
and the viscount was alone again — alone, and in utter, irreme- 
diable despair. 

He sat upon the side of the bed, his hands clasped and his 
chin dropped upon his breast until the bell of the prison chapel 
suddenly ceased to toll. Then he looked up. It was all over. 
The judicial tragedy had been enacted. And he arose and went 
to the grated window and looked out. 

Ho, oh, Heaven, it was not all over! That group around the 
foot of the gallows; that cart and empty coffin; that shrouded 
and bound figure, convulsed and swaying in the air — blasted his 
sight. With a loud cry he dashed his hand up to his eyes to shut 
out the horrible vision, and fell heavily upon the floor. He lay 
there as one dead until the turnkey brought his breakfast. 
Then he got up and threw himself upon the bed. He eagerly 
drank the coffee that was brought to him, for his throat was 
parched and burning; but he could not swallow a mouthful of 
solid food. 

“ Bring me the afternoon paper as soon as it is out,” he said 
to the turnkey, at the same time handing him a half-crown. 
The man bowed in silence and took his breakfast tray from the 
table and withdrew. 

For some reason or other, perhaps from the fear of coming 
in contact with the preparations for the execution, Mrs. Mac- 
Donald did not present herself at the prison until nearly noon. 


412 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

So that the prison clock was actually on the stroke of twelve 
when old Cuthbert was admitted to his master’s cell. On en- 
tering and beholding his master, the old man started and ex- 
claimed in affright: 

Gude guide us, me laird, what has come over ye ? ” 

“Nothing, Cuthbert, but want of rest. What is that you 
have in your hand ? ” 

“ The evening paper, me laird, that ane o’ the lads gi’e me 
to bring your lairdship.” 

“ Have you looked at it ? ” demanded the viscount anxiously, 
for he could not bear the idea of his old servant’s reading the 
confession of Frisbie, that was probably in that very paper. 
“ Have you looked at it, I ask you ? ” he repeated fiercely. 

“ Nay, no, me laird. I hanna e’en unfaulded it,” said the old 
man simply, handing the paper. 

The viscount seized it, threw himself on the chair, 
and opened it; but instead of reading the paper he looked 
up at old Cuthbert, who was standing there watching his 
master, with the deepest concern expressed in his venerable 
countenance. 

“ There, get about something ; do anything ! only don’t stand 
there and stare at me, as if you had gone daft ! ” angrily ex- 
claimed Lord Vincent. 

The old man turned meekly, and began to put things straight 
in the cell. The viscount searched and found what he had 
feared to see. Ah ! well might he dread the eye of old Cuthbert 
on him while he read those columns. 

Yes, there it was; the account of the last hours of Alick 
Frisbie by the pen of the chaplain! the night in the cell, the 
scene of the execution, and, last of all, the confession of the 
culprit with all its shameful revelations. The viscount, with a 
feverish desire to see how deeply he himself was implicated, 
and to know the worst at once, read it all. How far he was im- 
plicated indeed ! He was steeped to the very lips in infamy. 

Why, the crime for which Frisbie had suffered death, the 
murder of that poor girl, committed in a paroxysm of passion, 
and repented in bitterness, and confessed in humility, seemed 
only a light offense beside the deep turpitude, the black treach- 
ery, of that long premeditated, carefully arranged plot against 
Lady Vincent, in which the viscount was the principal and the 
valet only the accomplice. The plot was revealed in all its 
base, loathsome, revolting details. The reader knows what these 


THE EXECUTION. 


413 


details were, for lie has both seen them and heard of them. But 
can he imagine what it was to the viscount to have them dis- 
covered, published, and circulated? 

When Lord Vincent had read this confession through he 
knew that all was forever over with him; he knew that at that 
very hour hundreds of poeple were reading that confession, 
shuddering at his guilt, scorning his baseness, and anticipat- 
ing his conviction ; he knew as well as if he had just heard the 
sentence of the court what that sentence would be. Penal ser- 
vitude for life! 

Deep groans burst from his bosom. 

“ Me laird, me laird, you are surely ill,” said the old man anx- 
iously, coming forward. 

“Yes, Cuthbert, I am ill; in pain.” 

“Will I call a doctor?” 

“No, Cuthbert; a doctor is not necessary; but attend to me 
a moment. They let you bring me anything you like unques- 
tioned, do they not ? ” 

“Aye, surely, me laird; for you are no under condemnation 
yet ; but only waiting for your honorable acquittal.” 

“ Cuthbert, I think you have a brother who is a chemist in 
town, have you not ? ” 

“ Ou, aye, me laird. Joost Randy, honest man.” 

The viscount sat down and wrote a line on a scrap of paper 
and gave it to the old man. 

“ Now, Cuthbert, take this to your brother. Be sure that you 
let no one see that bit of paper, and when you get the medicine 
that I have written for, put it in your bosom and don’t take 
it out until you come back to me and we are alone. Now, Cuth- 
bert, I hope you will be more canny over this affair than you 
were over the affair of the note I sent to Frisbie, which you per- 
mitted to fall into the hands of Philistines.” 

“Ah, puir Frisbie, puir lad! Gude hae mercy on him! Pll 
be carfu’, me laird; though it was no me, but puir Frisbie him- 
seT, that let the bit note drap. But I’ll be carefu’, me laird, 
though ’deed I dinna see the use o’ concealment, sin’ naebody 
ever interferes wi’ onything I am bringing till your laird- 
ship.” 

“ But they might interfere with this because it is medicine ; 
for they might think that no one but the prison doctor has a 
right to give medicine here.” 

“ Ou, aye — I comprehend, me laird, that sic might be the 


414 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

case where the medicament is dangerous. But will this be dan- 
gerous ? ” 

“Why, no; it is nothing but simple laudanum. You know 
how good laudanum is to allay pain ; and that there is no danger 
at all in it.’^ 

“No, me laird, gin ane doesna tak’ an ower muckle dose.” 

“ Certainly, if one does not take an overdose ; but I have 
knowledge enough not to do that, Cuthbert.” 

“ Surely, me laird. I’ll gae noo and get it,” replied the old 
man, taking up his hat, and knocking at the door to be released. 
The turnkey opened promptly, and Cuthbert departed on his 
errand. 

When the viscount was left alone he resnmed his restless 
pacing up and down the narrow limits of his cell and con- 
tinued it for a while. Then he sat down to his little table, drew 
a sheet of paper before hiin, and began to write a letter. 

He was interrupted by the unlocking of his cell door. Hastily 
he turned the paper with the blank side up and looked around. 
It was Mr. Bruce, his counsel. The lawyer looked unusually 
grave. 

“ Well,” he said, as soon as he was left alone with his client, 
“the poor devil Frisbie is gone.” 

“ Yes,” responded the viscount, in a low voice. 

“ That is an ugly business of the confession.” 

“Very; the man was mad,” said the viscount. 

“Not unlikely; but I wish we may be able to persuade the 
jury that he was so; or else to induce the judges to rule his 
evidence out altogether.” 

“Can that be done? I mean can the judges be induced to 
rule out the confession as evidence?” inquired the viscount, 
sudden hope lighting up his hitherto dejected countenance. 

“I fear not; I fear that our chance is to persuade the jury 
that the man was insane or mendacious — in a word, to impeach 
his rationality or his truthfulness, one or the other; we must 
decide which stand we are to take, which call in question.” 

“ You might doubt either his sanity or his truth with equally 
good cause. He was always a fool and always a liar. When is 
the trial to come on ? ” 

“ That is just what I came to speak to you about. It is called 
for to-morrow at ten.” 

“ To-morrow at ten? ” 

“Yes.” 


THE EXECUTION. 


415 


‘‘Are you quite ready with the defense?’’ 

“I was until this nasty business of Frisbie’s confession 
turned up. I shall have to take a copy of the paper containing 
it home with me to-night, and study it, to see how I can pull 
it to pieces, and destroy its effects upon the jury. Have you 
got it here ? ” said Mr. Bruce, taking up the afternoon paper 
that lay upon the table. 

“Yes.” 

“Have you done with it?” 

“ Yes.” 

The lawyer folded up the paper and put it in his pocket, and 
took his hat to depart. 

“ Mr. Bruce,” said the viscount earnestly, “ I am about to ask 
you a question, which I must entreat you to answer truthfully : 
What are the chances of my acquittal ? ” 

The lawyer hesitated and changed color. The eyes of the vis- 
count were fixed earnestly upon him. The eyes of the counsel 
fell. 

“I see; you need not reply to my question. You think my 
chance a bad one,” said Lord Vincent despondently. 

“Ho, my lord; I did not mean to give you any such impres- 
sion,” said Mr. Bruce, recovering himself and his professional 
manners. “ Before this troublesome confession of Frisbie’s 
your chance was an excellent one ” 

“But since?” 

“Well, as I say, that is an ugly featpre in the case; but I 
will do my best. And to say nothing of my own poor abilities, 
my colleagues. Stair and Drummond, are among the most suc- 
cessful barristers in the kingdom. They are always safe to gain 
a verdict where there is a verdict possible to be gained.” 

“ Yes ; I know that I have the best talent in the Three King- 
doms engaged in my defense,” said the viscount ; but he said it 
with a profound sigh. 

“I will look in upon you again early to-morrow morning, 
before we go into court,” said Mr. Bruce, as he bowed himself 
out. 

This interview with his counsel had only tended to confirm 
the fears of the viscount and deepen his despondency, for, 
notwithstanding the guarded words of the lawyer. Lord Vin- 
cent saw that he had well-nigh given up all for lost. With a 
deep groan he sat down to the table and resumed the writing 
of his letter. He had not written many minutes when he was 


4l6 SELF-EAISED ; OE, FEOM THE DEPTHS. 

startled by the opening of the door. He hastily concealed his 
writing under a piece of blotting paper, and nervously turned 
to see who was the new intruder. 

It was old Cuthbert, come back from his errand. 

As soon as the door was closed upon them, the old man ap- 
proached his master. 

“ Have you got the medicine, Cuthbert ? ” 

“Aye, me laird,” replied the servant, taking a bottle, rolled 
in a white paper, from his pocket, and handing it to his master. 
Some instinct made the viscount conceal the bottle in his own 
bosom. 

“ And here, me laird, are two letters the turnkey gave me to 
hand to your lairdship. He tauld me they had just been left 
at the warden’s office for you,” said Cuthbert, laying two for- 
midable-looking epistles before his master. 

Lord Vincent recognized in the superscription of the respect- 
ive letters the handwriting of his counsel, Mr. Drummond and 
Mr. Stair. He hastily opened them one after the other. Sev- 
eral banknotes for a large amount rolled out of each. Sur- 
prised, he rapidly cast his eyes over each in turn. And his face 
turned to a deadly whiteness. The two letters were in effect 
the same. It seemed as though the writers, though not in part- 
nership, had acted in concert on this occasion. They each re- 
spectfully begged leave to return their retaining fees and re- 
tire from the defense of the viscount. Since reading the con- 
fession of the convic^, Alick Frisbie, they could not conscien- 
tiously act as counsel for Lord Vincent. Such was the pur- 
port, if not the exact words of the two letters. 

“ Me laird, me laird, ye are ill again ! ” said old Cuthbert, 
anxiously approaching his master. 

“Yes; the pain has returned.” 

“ Will ye no tak’ some o’ the medicine noo ? ’’ 

“Ho, Cuthbert; not until I retire for the night,” answered 
the viscount; but he withdrew the bottle from his bosom, and 
took it to the wash-basin and washed off the label and then 
threw it — the label — into the fire. 

Cuthbert watched him, and wondered at this proceeding, but 
was too respectful to express surprise or make inquiries. And 
at this moment the turnkey entered with Lord Vincent’s sup- 
per, that had been brought from the “ Highlander ” ; and while 
he arranged it on the table he warned Cuthbert that the prison 
doors were about to be closed for the night, and that Mrs. Mac- 


THE EXECUTION. 4l7 

Donald was waiting for him to drive her back to the castle. 
Upon hearing this the old man took a respectful leave of his 
master and departed. The turnkey remained in attendance 
upon the prisoner, kindly pressing him to eat. 

But Lord Vincent swallowed only a little tea, and then pushed 
the food from him. The turnkey took away the service, locked 
the prisoner in for the night, and went to the warden’s office. 

‘‘Weel, Donald, what is it, mon?” inquired the warden. 

An ye please, sir, I’m no easy in my mind about me Laird 
Vincent,” said the turnkey. 

Why, what ails me laird ? ” 

“ Why, sir, he is joost like ane distraught! ” 

“ Ou, aye, it will be the confession o’ the malefactor, Frisbie, 
that has f asht him ; as weel it may ! ” 

“He’s war nor fasht; he looks joost likely to do himsel’ a 
mischief,” said Christie, shaking his head. 

“ Hech ! an that be sae we maun be carefu’ ! Are there any 
sharp-edged or pointed instruments in his cell ? ” 

“ Haught but his penknife. I was minded to bring it away, 
but I did na.” 

“ Eh, then we will pay him a visit in his cell,” said the war- 
den, rising. 

The turnkey led the way upstairs, and they entered the 
prisoner’s cell. The viscount, who was sitting at the table with 
his head leaning upon his hand, looked up at this unusual visit. 
His face was deadly pale; but beyond that the warden noticed 
nothing amiss in his appearance, and that paleness was certainly 
natural in a prisoner suffering from confinement and anxiety. 
There is usually but scant ceremony observed between jailer 
and prisoner; nevertheless, in this case Auld Saundie Gra’ame 
actually apologized for his unseasonable visit. 

“ Me laird,” he said, “ I hae a verra unpleasant duty to per- 
form here. Donald reports that ye are no that weel in your 
mind. And sic being the case, I maun, in regard to your ain 
guid and safety, see till the removal of a’ edged tools and sic 
like dangerous weapons.” 

“ Take away what you please; I have no objection,” said '^le 
viscount indifferently. 

Whereupon the warden and turnkey made a thorough search 
of the room; took away his razors and scissors from his dress- 
ing-case, and his penknife and his eraser from his writing 
desk. 


418 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

“ I shall take guid care of a’ these articles, me laird, and re- 
turn them to you safe, ance you are out o’ these wa’s,” said the 
warden. 

The viscount made no reply. 

“And ye maun ken that I only remove them to prevent ^e 
doin’ yoursel’ a mischief in your despondency,” he continued. 

The viscount smiled with a strange, derisive, triumphant ex- 
pression; but still did not reply in words. 

“ And gin ye will heed guid counsel, ye will na gi’e yoursel’ 
up to despair. Despair is an unco ill counselor, and the de’il 
is aye ready to tak’ advantage of its presence. Guid nicht, me 
laird, and guid rest till ye,” said Auld Saundie, as he withdrew 
himself and his subordinate front the cell, and locked his pris- 
oner in finally for the night. 

When he got back to his office he summoned all of his officers 
around him and spoke to them. 

“ Lads, I ha’e sair misgivings anent yon Laird Vincent. Ye 
maun be verra carefu’! Ye mauna let his mon Cuthbert tak’ 
onything in, until it ha’e passed muster under me ain twa een. 
And you, Donald, maun aye gang in wi’ Cuthbert or ony ither, 
gentle or simple, wha gaes to see me laird, and bide in the cell 
wi’ them to watch that the visitor gi’es naething unlawfu’ or 
daungerous to the prisoner. An ounce o’ prevention, yo ken, 
lads, is better than a pund o’ cure ! ” 

And having given this order, the warden dismissed his sub- 
ordinates to their various evening duties. 

Yes, an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure! 
But it is a pity the honest warden had not known when to apply 
the preventive agent. 

Meanwhile, how had Faustina borne her imprisonment? 

Why, excellently. Mot that she had any patience, or courage, 
or fortitude, for she had not the least bit of either, or any other 
sort of heroism. But, as I said before, she wa* such a mere 
animal that, so long as she was made comfortable in the pres- 
ent, she felt no trouble on the score of the past or the future. 

After her first fit of howling, weeping, and raging had ex- 
hausted itself, and she had seen that her violence had no other 
effect than to injure her cause, she resigned herself to circum- 
stances and made herself as comfortable as possible in her cell. 
The expenditure of a few pounds had procured her everything 
she wanted, except her liberty; and that she did not feel the 
want of, as a creature with more soul might have done. 


NEWS FOE CLAUDIA. 


419 


Any chance visitor who might have gone into Faustina’s 
cell would have been astonished to see it fitted up as a tiny 
boudoir, and would have required to be told that there was no 
law to prevent a prisoner, unconvicted and waiting trial, from 
fitting up her cell as luxuriously as she pleased to do, if she 
had money to pay the expense and friends to take the trouble. 
And Faustina had freely spent money and freely used Mrs. 
MacDonald. 

The floor of her cell was covered with crimson carpet, the 
festooned window with a lace curtain, and ornamented with a 
bouquet of flowers. A soft bed, with fine linen and warm cover- 
lids, stood in one comer ; a toilet table and mirror draped with 
lace, in another; a small marble washstand, with its china ser- 
vice, in a third; and a French porcelain stove in the fourth. 
A crimson-covered easy-chair and tiny stand filled up the middle 
of the small apartment. 

And here, always well dressed, Faustina sat and read novels, 
or worked crochet, and gossiped with Mrs. MacDonald all day 
long. And here her epicurean meals, shared by her friend and 
visitor, were brought. 

And here Mrs. MacDonald petted and soothed and flattered 
her with the hopes of a speedy deliverance. 


CHAPTER XLYin. 

NEWS FOR CLAUDIA. 

Oh, in their deaths, remember they are men, 

Strain not revenge to wish their tortures grievous. 

—Addison. 

Death — even the most serene and beautiful death, coming to 
a good old man at the close of a long, beneficent life — is awful. 
Sudden and violent death, falling upon a strong young man in 
the midst of his sins and follies, is horrible. But perhaps the 
most appalling aspect under which the last messenger can ap- 
pear is that of a deliberately inflicted judicial death. 

Such a doom, pronounced upon the greatest sinner that ever 
lived, must move the pity of his bitterest enemy. 

The family at Cameron Court formed a Christian household. 
They received the news of Frisbie’s conviction* with solemn, 
compassionate approbation. Justice approved the sentence: 


420 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

but mercy pitied the victim. And they passed the day of his 
execution in a Sabbath stillness. 

They were glad when the day was over; glad when the late 
evening mail brought the afternoon papers from Banff, an- 
nouncing that the tragedy was finished; glad to read there that 
the sinner had repented, confessed, and died, hoping in the 
mercy of the Father, through the atonement of sin. 

Each one breathed a sigh of infinite relief to find that this 
sinner had not endangered his soul by impenitently rushing 
from man’s temporal to God’s eternal condemnation. 

No one failed to see the immense importance of Frisbie’s 
dying confession as evidence for the prosecution in the ap- 
proaching trial of the Viscount Vincent and Faustina Dugald; 
or the fatal effect it must have upon the accused; yet no one 
spoke of it then and there. The day of stern retributive jus- 
tice was not the time for unseemly triumph. 

They separated for the night, gravely and almost sadly. 

Claudia went up to her room, w^here her women, Katie and 
Sally, reinstated in her service, were in attendance. Sally, as 
usual, was silent and humble; Katie, equally as usual, talka- 
tive and dictatorial. 

^^And so de shamwally is hung at last! serbe him right; 
and I hopes it did him good; an’ I wish it was my lordship an’ 
de whited salt-peter along ob him ! ” she said, folding her arms 
over her fat bosom and rolling herself from side to side with, 
infinite satisfaction. 

“For shame, Katie, to triumph so over a dead man! I 
should have thought a good Christian woman like you would 
have prayed for him before he died,” said Claudia gravely. 

“ ’Deed didn’t I ! An’ I aint gwine to do it nuther. I aint 
gwine to bother my Hebbenly Master ’bout no sich grand vil- 
yan ! dere now ! ” 

“ Oh, Katie, Katie, I am afraid you are a great heathen ! ” 

“Well, den, I just ruther be a heathen dan a whited salt- 
peter, or a shamwally, or a lordship either, if I couldn’t do no 
more credit to it dan some,” said Katie, having, as usual, the 
last word. 

Claudia longed to be alone on this night; so she soon dis- 
missed her attendants, closed up her room, put out all her lights, 
and lay down in darkness, solitude, and meditation. 

Strange! but on this night her thoughts, and even her sym- 
pathies, were with Lord Vincent in his prison cell. Why should 


NEWS FOR CLAUDIA. 


421 


she think of him? Why should she pity him? She had never 
loved him, never even fancied that she loved him, even in the 
delusive days of courtship; or in the early days of marriage; 
and she had despised and shunned him in the miserable days 
of their estranged life at Castle Cragg. Why, then, as she lay 
there in the darkness, silence, and solitude of her own cham- 
ber, should her imagination hover over him ? Why did she con- 
template him in sorrow and in compassion? 

Because in that dreary cell she saw the twofold man — the 
man that he ought to have been, and the man that he was; be- 
cause she was his wife, and though she had never loved him, yet 
with better treatment she might have been won to do so; and 
finally, because she was a woman, and therefore full of sym- 
pathy with every sort of suffering. 

She knew that the dying confession of Frisbie would seal 
Lord Vincent’s fate. And she contemplated that fate as she 
had never done before. 

Penal servitude. 

Why it had seemed a mere, empty phrase until now. Now it 
was an appalling reality brimful of horror, even for the coarsest, 
dullest, and hardest criminal; but of how much more for him. 

Lord Vincent in the prison garb, working in chains; inquired 
after by curious sight-seers; and pointed out to strangers as 
the felon-viscount. 

She meditated on the effect all this would have on him, in 
the unspeakable misery it would inflict upon his vain, insolent, 
self-indulgent organization; and she marveled how he would 
ever endure it. 

And she thought of the dishonor this would reflect upon her- 
self as his wife. And she shrunk shudderingly away from the 
burning shame of living on, the wife of a felon. 

In the deep compassion she could not but feel for him, and 
in the intense mortification she anticipated for herself, she 
earnestly wished that in some manner he might escape the de- 
grading penalty of his crimes. 

In these harassing thoughts and distressing feelings Claudia 
lay tossing upon her restless bed until long after midnight, when 
at length she dropped into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

Now the circumstance that I am about to relate will be in- 
terpreted in a different manner by different people. Rational- 
ists who pin their faith on Sir Walter Scott and his ^^Demon- 
ology” will say it was only an optical illusion; the incredulous. 


422 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

who believe in nothing, will declare it was but a dream; while 
Spiritualists, who follow Mr. Robert Dale Owen in his F oot- 
prints on the Boundaries of Another World,” will be ready to 
declare that it was the apparition of a spirit; I commit myself 
to no opinion on the subject. 

But when Claudia had slept soundly for three hours she was 
aroused by hearing her name called; she awoke with a violent 
start; she sat upright in bed, and stared right before her with 
fixed eyes, pallid face, and immovable form, as though she were 
suddenly petrified. 

For there at the foot of the bed, between the tall posts, in 
the division formed by the festoons of the curtains, stood the 
figure of the Viscount Vincent. His face was pale, still, stem, 
like that of a dead man; one livid hand clutched his breast, 
the other was stretched towards her; and from the cold, blue, 
motionless lips proceeded a voice hollow as the distant moan 
of the wintry wind through leafless woods: 

Claudia, the debt is paid ! ” 

With these words the vision slowly dissolved to air. Then, 
and not until then, was the icy spell that bound all Claudia’s 
faculties loosened. She uttered piercing shriek upon shriek that 
startled all the sleepers in the house, and brought them rushing 
into her room. Katie and Sally being the nearest, were the 
first to enter. 

“ F or MarsteFs sake, my ladyship, what is the matter ? ” in- 
quired the old woman, while Sally stood by in a dumb terror. 

“ Oh, Katie, Katie ! it was Lord Vincent ! He has contrived, 
to make his escape in some manner ! He is out of prison ! he is 
in this very house ! he was in this room but a minute ago, though 
I do not see him now ! and he spoke to me ! ” 

“My goodness gracious me alibe. Miss Claudia, honey, it 
couldn’t a been he! he’s locked up safe in jail, you know! It 
mus’ a been his sperrit ! ” said superstitious Katie, with the 
deepest awe. 

“ Claudia, my dearest, what is the matter ? What is all this ? 
What has happened ? ” anxiously inquired the Countess of 
Hurstmonceux, as, hastily wrapped in her dressing-gown, she 
hurried into the chamber and up to Claudia’s bedside. 

“Come closer, Berenice; stoop down; now listen! The vis- 
count has broken prison ! he was here but a moment ago ! and 
he is gone! but his unexpected appearance in this place and at 
this hour, looking as he did so deathly pale, so livid and so 


NEWS FOE CLAUDIA. 423 

corpse-like, frightened me nearly out of my senses, and I 
screamed with terror. I — I tremble even yet.” 

“ My dearest Claudia, you have been dreaming. Compose 
yourself,” said Lady Hurstmonceux soothingly. 

“ My dearest Berenice, it was no dream, believe me. I was 
indeed asleep, fast asleep; but I was awakened by hearing my- 
seK called by name — ‘ Claudia, Claudia, Claudia,’ three times. 
And I opened my eyes and sat up in bed, and saw standing at 
the foot, looking at me between the curtains. Lord Vincent.” 

At this moment Judge Merlin, in his dressing-gown and 
slippers, came slowly into the chamber, looking around in a be- 
wildered way and saying: 

“ They told me the screams proceeded from my daughter’s 
apartment. What is the matter here? Claudia, my dear, what 
has happened ? What has frightened you ? ” he inquired, ap- 
proaching her bedside. 

Oh, my poor papa, have you bqen disturbed, too ? How 
sorry I am ! ” said Claudia. 

“JSTever mind me, my dear! What has happened to you?” 

“ Lady Vincent has been frightened by a disagreeable dream, 
sir,” replied Lady Hurstmonceux, answering for her friend. 

“ My dear lady, you here 1 ” exclaimed the judge, seeing her 
for the first time since he entered the room. 

“I am a light sleeper,” smiled the countess. 

am very sorry, papa, that I aroused the house in this 
manner,” said Claudia, with real regret in her tone. 

“ It was not like you to do so, for a dream, my dear,” replied 
the judge gravely. 

“ It was no dream, papa ! it was no dream, as the result will 
prove.” 

“ What was it then, my dear ? ” 

It was the Viscount Vincent ! ” 

“ The Viscount Vincent ! ” exclaimed the judge, in aston- 
ishment. 

Yes, papa ; he has contrived to escape and to enter this 
house and this very room. It was his sudden appearance that 
frightened me into the screaming fit that alarmed the house- 
hold ; and for which I am very sorry.” 

The Viscount Vincent here ! But how on earth could he 
have escaped from prison?” 

I do not know, papa. I only know by the evidence of my 
own senses that he has done so.” 


424 self-kaised; or, from the depths. 

“My dearest Claudia, believe me, you have been dreaming. 
Judge Merlin, if you knew the great strength and security of 
our prisons, you would also know how impossible it would be 
for any prisoner to escape,” said Lady Hurstmonceux, ad- 
dressing in turn the father and the daughter. 

“Berenice, that I have not been dreaming to-morrow will 
show. For to-morrow you and all concerned will know that 
Lord Vincent has escaped from prison. But my dear Berenice, 
and you, my dearest father, promise to me one thing; promise 
me not to give Lord Vincent up to justice; but to suffer him to 
get away from the country, if he can do so. That is doubtless 
all that he proposes to himself to do. And such exile will be 
punishment enough in itself for him, especially as it will in- 
volve the resignation of his rank, title, and inheritance. So 
let him get away if he can. He can work no further woe for me. 
Frisbie’s dying confession has killed off all his calumnies 
against me. -He is harmless henceforth. So leave him to God,” 
pleaded Claudia. 

“I am willing to do, or leave undone, whatever you please, 
my dear; but — do you really think that you actually did see the 
viscount, and that you did not only dream of seeing him ? ” in- 
quired the judge, unable to get over his amazement. 

“Yes, papa; I saw him; and to-morrow will prove that I did 
so,” said Claudia emphatically. 

Lady Hurstmonceux smiled incredulously, for she did not 
reflect that there were more ways than one of breaking out of 
prison. 

“ But supposing it to have been the viscount ; and supposing 
that he had succeeded in bursting locks and bars and eluding 
guards and sentinels; why should he have come here, of all 
places in the world? What could have been his motive in so 
risking a recapture ? ” inquired the judge, who seemed inclined 
to investigate the affair then and there. 

“ I do not know, papa. I have not had time to think. I was 
so astonished and even frightened at his mere appearance that 
I never asked myself the reason of it,” answered Claudia. 

“ Did you not ask him ? ” 

“ Ho, papa. I only screamed.” 

“ Did he not speak to you ? ” 

“Yes, papa.” 

“What did he say?” 

“ Papa, I had better tell you just how it happened,” answered 


NEWS FOR CLAUDIA. 


425 


Claudia, giving the judge a detailed account of the dream, 
vision, or ghost, as the reader chooses to call it; but which she 
persisted in declaring to be the viscount himself in the flesh. 

“ It is most extraordinary ! How did he get out ? Lady Hurst- 
monceux, had we not better have the house searched for him ? ” 
inquired the judge. 

‘‘It shall be done if you please, judge; though I think it un- 
necessary.” 

“ Papa, no ! he went as he came. Let him go. I hope he will 
be clear of the country before to-morrow morning.” 

At this moment the clock struck five, although it was still 
pitch-dark and far from the dawn of day. 

“ There ! I declare it is to-morrow morning already, as the 
Irish would say. Lady Hurstmonceux, do not let me keep you 
up any longer. I know your usual hour for rising at this sea- 
son of the year is eight o’clock. You will have three good 
hours’ sleep before you yet. Papa, dear, go to bed or you will 
make yourself ill.” 

“ Are you sure you will not have anything before I go, Clau- 
dia ? ” inquired the countess. 

“Nothing whatever, dear; I think I shall sleep.” 

Lady Hurstmonceux stooped and kissed her friend, and then, 
with a smile and a bow to the judge, she retired from the room. 

“ Do you think now that you will rest, Claudia ? ” inquired 
the judge. 

“ Yes, papa, yes. Go to rest yourself.” 

He also stooped and kissed her, and then left the chamber. 

“ Ge to bed, Katie and Sally,” said Claudia to her women. 

“’Deed ’fore de Lord aint I gwine to no bed to leabe you 
here by yourse’f. I don’t want you to see no more sperrits,” 
replied Katie. And she left the room for a few minutes and 
returned dragging in her mattress, which she spread upon the 
floor, and upon which she threw herself to sleep for the re- 
mainder of the dark hours. 

Lady Vincent submitted to this intrusion, because she knew 
it would be utterly useless to expostulate. But Sally began to 
whimper. 

“Now, den, what de matter long o’ you? You seen a sperrit 
too?” demanded Katie. 

“ I’s feared to sleep by myse’f, for fear I should see some- 
thin’,” wept Sally. 

“ Den you lay down here by me,” ordered Katie. 


426 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

And thus it was that Lady Vincent’s two women shared her 
sleeping room the remainder of that disturbed night — to be 
disturbed no longer; for, whether it was owing to the pres- 
ence of the negroes or not, Claudia slept untroubled by dream, 
vision, or apparition, until the daylight streaming through one 
window, that had been left unclosed, awakened her. 

It was ten o’clock, however, before the family assembled at 
the breakfast table, where they were engaged in discussing the 
affair of the previous night, and in each maintaining his or 
her own opinion as to its character; Claudia persisting that it 
was the Viscount Vincent in person that she had seen; Bere- 
nice contending that it was a dream; and the judge hesitating 
between two opinions; Ishmael silent. 

A very few hours will now decide the question,” said Clau- 
dia, abandoning the discussion and beginning to chip her egg. 
At this moment came a sound of wheels on the drive before the 
house, followed by a loud knock at the door. 

“ There ! I should not in the least wonder if that is a 
detachment of police coming to tell us that Lord Vincent has 
broken prison, and bringing a warrant to search this house for 
him,” said Claudia, half rising to listen. 

A servant entered the room and said: 

“ Sergeant McRae is out in the hall, asking to see his honor 
the judge.” 

thought so,” said Claudia briskly. 

The judge went out to see the sergeant of police. 

Claudia and Berenice suspended their breakfast, and waited 
in intense anxiety the result of the interview. 

Some little time elapsed, perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes, 
though the impatience of the ladies made it seem an hour in 
length; and then the door slowly opened and the judge gravely 
re-entered the breakfast room. 

“It is as I said. The Viscount Vincent has broken jail and 
they have come here with a search warrant to look for him ! ” 
exclaimed Claudia, glancing up at her father as he approached ; 
but when she saw the expression of profound melancholy in his 
countenance, she started, turned pale, and cried : 

“Good Heaven, papa, what — ^what has happened?” 

“ Partly what you have anticipated, Claudia. The Viscount 
Vincent has broken out of prison, but not in the manner you 
supposed,” solemnly replied the judge, taking his daughter’s 
arm and leading her to a sofa and seating her upon it. 


KEWS EOE CLAUDIA. 


427 

Lady Hurstmonceux, startled, anxious, and alarmed, followed 
and stood by her and held her hand. And both ladies gazed in- 
quiringly into the disturbed face of the old man. 

“ There is something— something behind ! What is it, papa ? 
The viscount has broken jail, you say! Has he — has he — 
killed one of the guards in making his escape ? ” inquired Clau- 
dia, in a low, awe-stricken voice. 

Ho, my dear, he has not done that. He has escaped the tri- 
bunal of man to rush uncalled to the tribunal of God,” said the 
judge solemnly. 

Claudia, though her dilated eyes were fixed in eager ques- 
tioning on the face of her father, and though her ears were 
strained to catch his low-toned words, yet did not seem to gather 
in his meaning. 

“ What — ^what do you say, papa ? Explain ! ” she breathed 
in scarcely audible syllables. 

‘‘The Viscount Vincent is dead!” 

“Dead!” ejaculated Claudia. 

“ Dead ! ” echoed the countess. 

“ Dead, by his own act ! ” repeated the judge. 

Claudia sank back in the corner of the sofa and covered her 
face with her hands — overcome, not by sorrow certainly, but 
by awe and pity. 

Berenice sat down beside the newly made widow, and put 
her arms around her waist, and drew her head upon her bosom. 
Judge Merlin stood silently before them. The only one who 
seemed to have the full possession of his faculties was Ishmael. 

He quietly dismissed the gaping servants from the room, 
closed the doors, and drew a resting-chair to the side of his old 
friend, and gently constrained him to sit down in it. And then 
he was about to glide away when the judge seized his hand 
and detained him, saying imploringly: 

“Ho, no, Ishmael! no, no, my dearest young friend! do not 
leave us at this solemn crisis.” 

Ishmael placed his hand in that of the old man, as an earnest 
of fidelity, and remained standing by him. 

After a little while Claudia lifted her head from the bosom 
of Lady Hurstmonceux, and said : 

“ Oh, papa, this is dreadful ! ” 

“Dreadful, indeed, my dear.” 

“ That any human being should be driven to such a fate ! ” 

“To such a crime, Claudia,” gravely amended the judge. 


428 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

“ Crime, then, if you will call it so. But I do not wonder at 
it. May God in his infinite mercy forgive him ! fervently 
prayed Claudia. 

“ Amen ! ” deeply responded the judge. 

Papa, they say that suicides are never forgiven — can never 
be forgiven — because their sin is the last act of their life, af- 
fording no time for repentance. Yet who knows that for cer- 
tain? Who knows but in the short interval between the deed 
and the death, there may not be repentance and pardon ? 

‘^Who knows, indeed! ‘With God all things are possible.’” 

“ Oh, papa, I hope he repented and is pardoned ! ” 

“ I hope so too, Claudia.” 

She dropped her head once more upon the bosom of Lady 
Hurstmonceux, in pity and in awe; but not in sorrow, for his 
death was an infinite relief to her and to all connected with 
him. After a little while she raised her head again, and in a 
low, hushed voice, inquired: 

“ Papa, at what hour did he die ? ” 

“Between four and five o’clock this morning, my dear.” 

“Between four and five o’clock this morning! Good 
Heavens ! ” exclaimed Claudia and Berenice simultaneously, 
starting and gazing into each other’s faces. 

“What is the matter?” gravely inquired the judge. 

“ That was the very hour in which Claudia was awakened 
by her strange dream ! ” replied Lady Hurstmonceux. 

“ Oh, papa ! that was the very hour in which I saw Lord Vin- 
cent standing at the foot of my bed ! ” exclaimed Claudia, with 
a shudder. 

“ How passing strange ! ” mused the judge. 

“ Oh, papa ! can such things really be ? can a parting spirit 
appear to us the moment it leaves the body ? ” inquired Claudia, 
in an awe-struck manner. 

“My dear if anyone had related to me such a strange cir- 
cumstance as this, of which we are all partly cognizant, I should 
have discredited the whole affair. As it is, I know not what to 
make of it. It may have been a dream ; nay, it must have been 
a dream; yet, even as a dream, occurring just at the hour it did, 
it was certainly an astonishing and a most marvelous coin- 
cidence.” 

Again Claudia dropped her head upon the supporting bosom 
of Lady Hurstmonceux, but this time it was in weariness and 
in thought that she reposed there. 


NEWS FOR CLAUDIA. 429 

A few minutes passed, and then, without lifting her head, 
she murmured : 

“ Tell me all about it, papa; I must learn some time; as well 
now as any other.” 

“ Can you bear to hear the story now, Claudia ? ” 

“ Better now, I think, than at a future time ; I am in a meas- 
ure prepared for it now. How did it happen, papa? ” 

The judge drew closer to his daughter, took her hand in his, 
and said : 

I will tell you, as McRae told me, my dear. You must know 
that from the time Lord Vincent read the published confession 
of Frisbie, in the afternoon papers, he became so much changed 
in all respects as to excite the attention, then the suspicion, 
and finally the alarm of his keepers. At six o’clock after the 
turnkey, Donald, had paid his last visit to his prisoner, and 
locked up the', cell for the night, he reported the condition of 
Lord Vincent to the governor of the jail. Mr. Gra’ame, on 
hearing the account given by Donald, determined to curtail 
many of the privileges his lordship had hitherto, as an untried 
prisoner, enjoyed. Among the rest he determined that nothing 
more should be carried to his lordship in his cell that he, the 
governor, had not first examined, as a precautionary measure 
against drugs or tools, with which the prisoner might do him- 
self a mischief.” 

should think they ought to have taken that precaution 
from the first,” said Claudia. 

“ It is not usual in the case of an untried prisoner; but, how- 
ever, the governor of Banff jail seemed to think as you do, 
for he farther determined to make a special visit to the prisoner 
that night, to search his cell and remove from it everything with 
which he might possibly injure himself. And accordingly the 
governor, accompanied by the turnkey, went to the cell and 
made a thorough search. They found nothing suspicious, how- 
ever. But in their late though excessive caution they carried 
away, not only the prisoner’s razor, but his pen-knife and 
scissors. And then they left him.” 

And after all, left him with the means of self-destruction,’^ 
exclaimed Claudia. 

Ho, they did not. You shall hear. About eight o’clock that 
night, as the watchman of that ward was pacing his rounds, he 
heard deep groans issuing from Lord Vincent’s cell. He went 
and gave the alarm. The warden, the physician, and the turn- 


430 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

key entered the cell together. They found the viscount in the 
agonies of death.” 

“ Great Heavens ! Alone and dying in his cell ! ” 

“ Yes ; and suffering even more distress of mind than of body. 
When it was too late, he regretted his rash deed. For he freely 
confessed that being driven to despair and almost if not quite 
to madness, by the desperate state of his affairs, he had procured 
laudanum through the agency of his servant, having persuaded 
the old man that he merely wanted the medicine to allay 
pain.” 

“ Poor, poor soul ! ” 

“ Cuthbert, simple and unsuspicious, and as easily deceivea 
as a child, brought the laudanum to him and bid him adieu 
for the night. And it was in the interval between the last visit 
of the turnkey and the special visit of the governor that the 
prisoner drank the whole of the laudanum. And then to pre- 
vent suspicion he washed the label from the bottle and poured 
in a little ink from his inkstand. So that when the governor 
made his visit of inspection, although he actually handled that 
bottle, he took it for nothing else but a receptacle for ink.” 

Oh, how dreadful ! how dreadful, that anyone should ex- 
ercise so much calculation, cunning, and foresight for the de- 
struction of his own soul ! ” moaned Claudia. 

“Yes; he himself thought so at last; for no sooner did the 
poison begin to do its work, no sooner did he feel death ap- 
proaching, than he was seized with horror at the enormity of 
his own crime, and with remorse for the sins of his whole life. 
It would seem that in that hour his eyes were opened for the 
first time, and he saw himself as he really was, a rampant rebel 
against all the laws of God and on the brink of eternal perdi- 
tion. It was the great agony of mind produced by this view of 
himself and his condition that forced from him those deep 
groans that were heard by the night-watch who brought the 
relief to him.” 

“ Then he must have repented. Oh ! I hope that God for- 
gave him ! ” prayed Claudia, with earnest tones and clasped 
hands. 

“ You may be sure that God did forgive him if he truly re- 
pented! Certainly it seemed that he repented; for he begged 
for antidotes, declaring that he wished to live to atone for the 
sins of his past. Antidotes were administered, but without the 
least good effect. And when he repeated his earnest wish to be 


KEWS FOE CLAUDIA. 


431 


permitted to live that he might ^ atone hy his future life for 
the sins of ^ his past/ the physician, who is a good man, sent for 
the chaplain of the jail, a fervent Christian, who told the pris- 
oner how impossible it was for him, should he have a new lease 
of life, to atone, by years of penance, for the smallest sin of his 
soul; but pointed him at the same time to the One Divine 
Atoner, who is able to save to the uttermost. The chaplain re- 
mained praying with the dying man until half -past four o’clock 
this morning, when he breathed his last. That is all, Claudia.” 

Oh, papa, you see he did repent ; and I will hope that God 
has pardoned him,” said Claudia earnestly; but she was very 
pale and faint, and she leaned heavily upon the shoulder of 
Lady Hurstmonceux. 

“ My dearest Claudia, let me lead you to your room ; you re- 
quire repose after this excitement,” said the countess, giving 
her arm to the new widow. 

Claudia arose; but the judge gently arrested her progress. 

‘‘ Stay, my dear ! One word before you go. The business of 
McRae here was not only to announce the death of Lord Vin- 
cent, but also the approaching trial of Faustina Dugald. 
It comes on at ten o’clock to-morrow morning. You are sum- 
moned as a witness for the prosecution. Therefore, my dear, 
we must leave Edinboro’ for Banff by the afternoon express 
train.” 

“ Oh, papa ! to appear in a public court at such a time ! ” ex- 
claimed Claudia, with a shudder. 

“I know it is hard, my dear. I know it must be dreadful; 
but I also know that the way of J ustice is like the progress of 
the Car of Juggernaut. It stops for nothing; it rolls on in its 
irresistible course, crushing under its iron wheels all conven- 
tionalities, all proprieties, all sensibilities. And I know also, 
my daughter, that you are equal to the duties, the exertions, and 
the sacrifices that Justice requires of you. There, go now! 
take what repose you can for the next few hours, to be ready 
for the train at six o’clock,” said the judge, stooping, and press- 
ing a kiss upon his daughter’s brow, before the countess led her 
away. 

“ Ishmael,” said the judge, as soon as they were alone, “ do 
you know what you and I have got to do now ? ” 

'^Yes, sir,” said the young man solemnly, “I know.” 

“ That poor, unhappy man in yonder prison has no friend or 
relative to claim his body, his father being absent; and if we 


432 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

do not claim it, it will be ignominiously buried by tlie prison 
authorities within the prison walls.” 

“ I thought of that, but waited for your suggestion. If you 
please I will see the proper authorities to-morrow and make 
arrangements with them.” 

“ Do, my dear young friend,” said the judge, wringing his 
hand as he left him. 

Amid the great crises of life its small proprieties must still 
be observed. This the Countess of TIurstmonceux knew. And, 
therefore, as soon as she had seen Claudia reposing on her com- 
fortable sofa in her chamber, she ordered her carriage and 
drove to Edinboro’, and to a celebrated mourning warehouse 
where they got up outfits on the shortest notice, and there 
she procured a widow’s complete dress, including the gown, 
mantle, bonnet, veil, and gloves, and took them home to Clau- 
dia. For she knew that if Lady Vincent were compelled to ap- 
pear in the public courtroom the next day, she must wear 
widow’s weeds. 

When she took these articles into Claudia’s room and showed 
them to her, the latter said: 

“ My dear Berenice, I thank you very much for your thought- 
ful care. But do you know that it would seem like hypocrisy 
in me to wear this mourning ?” 

“My dearest Claudia, conventionalities must be observed 
though the heavens fall. You owe this to yourself, to society, 
and even to the dead — ^for in his death he has atoned for much 
to you.” 

“ I will wear them then,” said Claudia. 

And there the matter ended. 

Meanwhile, the news of Lord Vincent’s death had got about 
among the servants. Katie and Sally also had heard of it. 

So that when Lady Vincent rang for her women to come and 
pack up her traveling trunk to go to Banff, Katie entered full 
of the subject. 

So my lordship has gone to his account, and all from takin’ 
of an overdose of laudamy drops. How careful people ought to 
be when they meddles long o’ dat sort o’ truck. Well, laws! 
long as he’s dead and gone I forgibs him for heavin’ of me down 
to lib long o’ de rats, and den sellin’ ob me to de barbariums in 
de Stingy Isles. ’Deed does I forgibs him good too. and like- 
wise de shamwally while I’se got my hand in at forgibness,” 
she said. 


THE FATE OF FAUSTmA. 433 

“ That’s right, Katie. Kever let your hatred follow a man 
to the grave,” said Claudia. 

“I wouldn’t forgib 'em if dey wasn’t dead, dough. ’Deed 
wouldn’t I. I tell you all good too. And if dey was to com© 
back to life I would just take my forgibness back again. And 
it should all be just like it was before,” said Katie, sharply 
defining her position. 

Claudia sadly shook her head. 

“ That is a very questionable species of forgiveness, Katie,” 
she said. 

That afternoon the whole party, including the Countess of 
Hurstmonceux, who declared her intention of supporting Clau- 
dia through the approaching ordeal, left Cameron Court for 
Edinboro’, where they took the six o’clock train for Banff, where 
they arrived at ten the same evening. 

They went to the “ Highlander,” where they engaged comfort- 
able apartments and settled themselves for a few days. 


CHAPTEK XLIX. 

THE FATE OP FAUSTINA. 

Ob, what a fate is guilt! How wild, how wretched! 

■When apprehension can form naught but fears. 

— Howard, 

Early the next morning Ishmael went over to the prison to 
see the governor relative to the removal of the body of the un- 
happy Vincent. But he was told that the old Earl of Hurst- 
monceux had arrived at noon on the previous day and had 
claimed the body of his son and had it removed from the prison 
in a close hearse at the dead of night, to escape the observation 
of the mob, and conveyed to Castle Cragg, where, without any 
funeral pomp, it would be quietly deposited in the family 
vault. 

With this intelligence Ishmael came back to Judge Merlin. 

That is well ! That is a great relief to my mind, Ishmael,’^ 
said the judge, and he went to convey the news to Lady Vincent 
and the countess. 

At nine o’clock Katie, Sally, and Jim, who were all wit- 
nesses for the prosecution in the approaching trial of Faustina 


434 SEI^-KAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

Dugald, were dispatched to the courthouse, under the escort of 
the professor. 

At haK-past nine Judge Merlin, Ishmael Worth, Lady Vin- 
cent, and the Countess of Hurstmonceux entered a close car- 
riage and drove to the same place. 

What a crowd ! 

It is not every day that a woman of high rank stands at the 
bar of a criminal court to answer to a charge of felony. And 
Faustina was a woman of high rank, at least by marriage. She 
was the Honorable Mrs. Dugald; and she was about to be ar- 
raigned upon several charges, the lightest one of which, if 
proved, would consign her to penal servitude for years. 

The world had got wind of this trial, and hence the great 
crowd that blocked up every approach to the courthouse. 

Two policemen had to clear a way for the carriage containing 
the witnesses for the prosecution to draw up. And when it 
stopped and its party alighted, the same two policemen had to 
walk before them to open a path for their entrance into the 
courthouse. 

Here every lobby, staircase, passage, and anteroom was full 
of curious people, pressed against each other. These people 
could not get intO' the courtroom, which was already crowded 
as full as it could be packed; nor could they see or hear any- 
thing from where they stood ; and yet they persisted in standing 
there, crowding each other nearly to death, and stretching their 
necks and straining their eyes and ears after sensational sights 
and sounds. 

Through this consolidated mass of human beings the police- 
men found great difficulty in forcing a passage for the wit- 
nesses. But at length they succeeded, and ushered the party 
into the courtroom, and seated them upon the bench appointed 
to the use of the witnesses for the prosecution. 

The courtroom was even more densely packed than the ap- 
proaches to it had been. It was scarcely possible to breathe 
the air laden with the breath of so many human beings. But 
for the inconvenience of the great crowd and the fetid air, this 
was an interesting place to pass a few hours in. 

The Lord Chief Baron, Sir Archibald Alexander, presided on. 
the bench. He was supported on the right and left by Jus- 
tices Knox and Blair. Some of the most distinguished advo- 
cates of the Scottish bar were present. 

The prisoner had not yet been brought into court. A few 


THE FATE OF FAUSTmA. 


435 


minutes passed, however, and then, by the commotion near the 
door and by the turning simultaneously of hundreds of heads 
in one direction, it was discovered that she was approaching in 
custody of the proper officers. Room was readily made for her 
by the crowd dividing right and left and pressing back upon it- 
self, like the waves of the Red Sea, when the Israelites passed 
over it dryshod. And she was led up between two bailiffs and 
placed in the dock. Then for the first time the crowd got a 
good view of her, for the dock was raised some three or four 
feet above the level of the floor. 

She was well dressed for the occasion, for if there was one 
thing this woman understood better than another, it was the 
science of the toilet. She wore a dark-brown silk dress and a 
dark-brown velvet bonnet, and a Russian sable cloak, and 
cuffs, and muff, and her face was shaded by a delicate black 
lace veil. 

Mrs. MacDonald, who had followed her into the court, was 
allowed to sit beside her; a privilege that the lady availed her- 
self of, at some considerable damage to her own personal dig- 
nity; for at least one-half of the strangers in the room, judg- 
ing from her position beside the criminal, mistook her for an 
accomplice in the crime. 

After the usual preliminary forms had been observed, the 
prisoner was duly arraigned at the bar. 

When asked by the clerk of arraignments whether she were 
guilty or not guilty, she answered vehemently : 

I am not guilty of anything at all ; no, not I ! I never did 
conspire against any lady! My Lord Viscount Vincent and his 
valet Frisbie did that! And I never did abduct and sell into 
slavery any negro persons! My Lord Vincent and his valet 
did that also! It was all the doings of m^y lord and his valet, 
as you may know, since the valet has been guillotined and my 
lord has suffocated himself with charcoal! And it is a great 
infamy to persecute a poor little woman for what gross big 
men did! And I tell you, messieurs ” 

‘^That will do! This is no time for making your defense, 
but only for entering your plea,” said the clerk, cutting short 
her oration. 

She threw herself into a chair and burst into tears, and 
sobbed aloud while the Queen’s Solicitor, Counselor Birnie, got 
up to open the indictment setting forth the charges upon which 
the prisoner at the bar had been arraigned. 


436 SELF-EAISED ; OE, FEOM THE DEPTHS, 

At the end of the opening speech he proceeded to call the wit- 
nesses, and the first called to the stand was: 

“ Claudia Dugald, Viscountess Vincent.” 

Judge Merlin arose and led his daughter to the stand, and 
then retired. 

Claudia threw aside her deep mourning veil, revealing her 
beautiful pale face, at the sight of which a murmur of admira- 
tion ran through the crowded courtroom. 

The oath was duly administered, Claudia following the words 
of the formula, in a low, but clear and firm voice. 

Oh! but her position was a painful one! Gladly would she 
have retired from it; but the exactions of justice are inex- 
orable. It was distressing to her to stand there and give testi- 
mony against the prisoner, which should cast such shame upon 
the grave of the dumb, defenseless dead; yet it was inevitable 
that she must do it. She was under oath, and so she must tes-^ 
tify to “ the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth ! ” 

Then being questioned, she spoke of the sinful league between 
Faustina Dugald, the prisoner at the bar, and the deceased Vis- 
count Vincent; she then related the conversation she had over- 
heard between these two accomplices on the very night of her 
first arrival home at Castle Cragg; that momentous conversa- 
tion in which the first germ of the conspiracy against her honor 
was formed; being further questioned, she acknowledged the 
complete estrangement between herself and her husband, and 
the actual state of widowhood in which she had lived in his 
house, while his time and attention were all devoted to her 
rival, the prisoner at the bar. 

Here Claudia begged leave to retire from the stand; but of 
course she was not permitted to do so; the Queen’s Solicitor 
had not done with her yet. She was required to relate the in- 
cidents of that evening when the valet Frisbie was dragged from 
his hiding-place in her boudoir by the Viscount Vincent. And 
amid fiery blushes Claudia detailed all the circumstances of 
that scene. She was but slightly cross-questioned by the counsel 
for the prisoner, and without effect, and was finally permitted to 
retire. Her father came and led her back to her seat. 

The housekeeper of Castle Cragg was the next witness 
called, and she testified with a marked reluctance, that only 
served to give additional weight to her statement, to the sinful 
intimacy between the deceased viscount and the prisoner at 
the bar. 


THE FATE OF FAUSTINA. 437 

Following her came old Cuthbert, who sadly corroborated her 
testimony in all respects. 

Next came other servants of the castle, all with much dislike 
to do the duty, speaking to the one point of the fatal attach- 
ment that had existed between Lord Vincent and Mrs. Dugald. 

And then at length came Katie. Now we all know the facts 
to which Katie would bear testimony, and the style in which 
she would do it; and so we need not repeat her statement here. 
It was sufficiently conclusive to insure the conviction of the 
prisoner, even if there had been nothing to support it. 

But the most fatal evidence was yet to be produced: The 
Eeverend Christian Godfree, chaplain of the jail, was called to 
the stand and duly sworn. And then a manuscript was placed 
in his hand, and he was asked if he could identify that as the 
veritable last confession made by the convict, Alick Frisbie, 
in his cell, on the night previous to his execution. Mr. Godfree 
carefully examined it and promptly identified it. 

But here the counsel for the prisoner interposed, and would 
have had the confession ruled out as evidence; and a contro- 
versy arose between the prosecution and the defense, which 
was at last decided by the bench, who ordered that the confession 
of Alick Frisbie should be received as evidence in the case of 
Faustina Dugald. 

And then the Queen’s Solicitor, taking the paper from the 
witness, proceeded to read the confession with all its deeply 
disgraceful revelations. From it, the complicity of Faustina 
Dugald in the conspiracy against Lady Vincent was clearly 
shown. Having read it through, the solicitor called several 
witnesses from among the servants of the castle, who swore to 
the signature at the bottom of the confession as the handwrit- 
ing of Alick Frisbie. And then the solicitor passed the paper 
to the foreman of the jury, that he might circulate it among his 
colleagues for their examination and satisfaction. The solicitor 
then summed up the evidence for the prosecution and rested 
the case. 

Mr. Bruce, leading counsel for the prisoner, arose and made 
the best defense that the bad case admitted of. He tried to pull 
to pieces, destroy, and discredit the evidence that had been given 
in ; but all to no purpose. He next tried to engage the sympa- 
thy of the judge and jury for the beauty and misfortunes of his 
client; but in vain. Finally, he called a number of paid wit- 
nesses, who testified chiefly to the excellent moral character of 


438 self-eaised; oe, eeom the depths. 

Mrs. Faustina Dugald, seeking to make it appear quite impossi- 
ble that she should do any wrong whatever, much less commit 
the crimes for which she stood arraigned ; and also to the malig- 
nant envy, hatred, and malice felt by every servant at Castle 
Cragg and every witness for the prosecution against the in- 
jured and unhappy prisoner at the bar, seeking to make it ap- 
pear that all their testimony was nothing but malignant cal- 
umny leveled against injured innocence. 

But, unfortunately for the defense, the only impression these 
witnesses made upon the judge and the jury was that they — 
the witnesses — ^were about the most shameless falsifiers of the 
truth that ever perjured themselves before a court of justice. 

The counsel for the prisoner went over the evidence for the 
defense in an eloquent speech, which was worse than wasted in 
such evil service. 

The Queen’s Solicitor had, as usual, the last word. 

The Lord Chief Baron then summed up the evidence on 
either side and charged the jury. And the charge amounted in 
effect to an instruction to them to bring in a verdict against 
the prisoner. And accordingly the jury retired and consulted 
about twenty minutes, and then returned with the verdict: 

Guilty.” 

The Lord Chief Baron arose to pronoimce the sentence of the 
law. 

The clerk of the arraigns ordered the prisoner to stand up. 

What are they going to do now ? ” nervously inquired Faus- 
tina, who did not in the least understand what was going on. 

“FTothing much, my dear; his lordship the judge is going to 
speak to you from the bench. That is all,” said Mrs. MacDon- 
ald, as she helped the prisoner to her feet; for Mrs. MacDon- 
ald never hesitated to tell a falsehood for the sake of keeping 
the peace. 

Faustina stood up, looking towards the bench with curiosity, 
distrust, and fear. 

The Lord Chief Baron began the usual prosing preamble to 
the sentence, telling the prisoner of the enormity of the crime 
of which she had been accused; of the perfect impartiality of 
the trial to which she had been subjected ; the complete conclu- 
siveness of the evidence on which she had been convicted; and 
so forth. He gave her to understand that the court might easily 
sentence her to fifteen or twenty years’ imprisonment ; but that, 
in consideration of her early youth and of her utter failure co 


LADY HUESTMONCEUX^S KEVELATIOX. 


439 


carry out her felonious purposes to their completion, he would 
assign her a milder penalty. And he proceeded to sentence her 
to penal servitude for the term of ten years. The Lord Chief 
Baron resumed his seat. 

Faustina threw a wild, perplexed, appealing glance around 
the courtroom, and then, as the truth of her doom entered her 
soul, she uttered a piercing shriek and fell into violent hys- 
terics. And in this condition she was removed from the court 
to the jail, there to remain until she should be transported to 
the scene of her punishment. 

“We have nothing more to do here. Judge Merlin. Had you 
not better take Lady Vincent back to the hotel ? ” suggested 
Ishmael. 

The judge, who had been sitting as if spellbound, started up, 
gave his arm to his daughter, and led her out of the court and 
to the fly that was in attendance to convey them back to the 
“Highlander.” Ishmael followed, with the countess on his 
arm. And the professor, having the three negroes in charge, 
brought up the rear. Judge Merlin, Ishmael, Claudia and the 
countess entered the fly. The professor and his charges walked. 
And thus they reached the “Highlander,” where the news of 
Faustina Dugald’s conviction had preceded them. 

The trial had occupied the whole day. It was now late in 
the evening; too late for our party to think of going on to 
Edinboro’ that night. Besides, they all needed rest after the 
exciting scenes of the day; and so they determined to remain in 
Banff that night. 


CHAPTEE L. 

LADY HURSTMONCEUX’S REVELA.TION. 


For life, I prize it, 

As I weigh grief which I would spare; for honor, 
’Tis a derivative from me to mine, 

And only that I stand for. 

— ShaJcspeare, 


That same evening, while our party was assembled at tea in 
their private parlor, at the “ Highlander,” a letter was brought 
to Judge Merlin. 

It was a formidable-looking letter, with a black border an inch 


440 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

wide running around tlie envelope, and sealed with a great 
round of black wax, impressed with an earl’s coronet. The 
judge opened it and read it and passed it to Ishmael. 

It proved to be a letter from the Earl of Hurstmonceux and 
addressed to Judge Merlin. I have not space to give the con- 
tents of this letter word for word. 

It set forth, in effect, that under the recent distressing cir- 
cumstances it would be too painful to the Earl of Hurstmon- 
ceux to meet Judge Merlin in a personal interview, but that the 
earl wished to make an act of restitution, and so, if Judge Mer- 
lin would dispatch his solicitor to London to the chambers of 
the Messrs. Hudson, in Burton Street, Piccadilly, those gentle- 
men, who were the solicitors of his lordship, would be prepared 
to restore to Lady Vincent the fortune she had brought in mar- 
riage to her husband, the late Lord Vincent. 

“ You will go to London and attend to this matter for me, 
Ishmael ? ” inquired the judge, as he received the letter back, 
after the young man had read it. 

Why, certainly. Judge Merlin. Who should act for you but 
myself ? ” said Ishmael, with an affectionate smile. 

“ But it may be inconvenient for you to go just now ? ” sug- 
gested the judge. 

“ Oh, no, not at all ! In fact, judge, I was intending to go up 
to London to join Mr. Brudenell there in a very few days. I 
was only waiting for this trial to be concluded before setting 
out,” smiled Ishmael. 

Papa, what is it that you are talking about ? What letter is 
that ? ” inquired Claudia, ■ while Lady Hurstmonceux looked 
the question she forbore to ask. 

Eor all answer the judge placed the letter in the hands of 
his daughter, and then, turning to the countess, said: 

^^It is a communication from Lord Hurstmonceux, referring 
us to his solicitors in London, whom he has instructed to make 
restitution of the whole of my daughter’s fortune.” 

“The Earl of Hurstmonceux is an honorable man. But he 
has been singularly unfortunate in his family. His brother and 
his sons, who seem to have taken more after their uncle than 
their father, have all turned out badly and given him much 
trouble,” said the countess. 

“His brother? I know of course the career of his sons; but 
I did not know anything about his brother,” said Judge Merlin. 

“He was the Honorable Dromlie Dugald, Captain in the 


LADY HUESTMONCEUX’S EEYELATIOX. 441 


Tenth Highlanders, a man whose society was avoided by all good 
women. And yet I had cause to know him well,” answered the 
countess, as a cloud passed over her beautiful face. 

“You, Berenice!” said Claudia, looking up in surprise; for 
it was passing strange to hear that pure and noble woman ac- 
knowledge an acquaintance with a man of whom she had just 
said that every good woman avoided his society. 

“ I! ” repeated the countess solemnly. 

There was certainly fate in the next words she spoke: 

“ This Captain Dugald was a near relative and great favorite 
with my first husband, the old Earl of Hurstmonceux ; chiefly, 
I think, for the exuberant gayety of temper and disposition of 
the young man, that always kept the old one amused. But after 
the earl married me he turned a cold shoulder to the captain, 
and complimented me by being jealous of him. This occa- 
sioned gossip, in which my good name suffered some injustice.” 

The countess paused, and turned her beautiful eyes appeal- 
ingly to Ishmael, saying : 

“ When you shall become one of the lawgivers of your native 
country, young gentleman, I hope that the crime of slander 
will be made a felony, indictable before your criminal courts.” 

“If I had the remodeling of the laws,” said Ishmael ear- 
nestly, “slander should be made felonious and punishable as 
theft is.” 

“But, dear Berenice, the gossip of which you speak could 
have done you no lasting injury,” said Claudia. 

“ ‘ 'No lasting injury.’ Well, no eternal injury, I hope, if you 
mean that,” sighed the countess. 

“Ho, I mean to say that a woman like yourself lives down 
calumny.” 

“ Ah I but in the living it down, how much of heartwasting.” 

The countess dropped her head upon her hand for a moment, 
while all her long black ringlets fell around and veiled her 
pale and thoughtful face. Then, looking up, she said: 

“ I think I will tell you all about it. Something, I know not 
what, impels me to speak to-night, in this little circle of 
select friends, on a theme on which I have been silent for years. 
Claudia, my dearest, if the jealousy of my old husband and the 
gossip of my envious rivals had been all, that would not have 
hurt me so much. But there was worse to come. The wretch, 
denied admittance to our house, pursued me with his atten- 
tions elsewhere; whenever and wherever I walked or rode out, 


442 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

he would be sure to join me. I have said such was his evil 
reputation that his society would have brought reproach to 
any woman, under any circumstances; judge you, then, what 
it must have brought upon me, the young wife of an old man ! ” 

“Had you no male relative to chastise the villain and send 
him about his business ? ” inquired the judge. 

Berenice smiled sadly and shook her head. 

“My husband and my father were both very old men,” she 
said ; “ I had but one resource — to confine myself to the house 
and deny myself to visitors. We were then living in our town 
house in Edinboro’. There my old husband died, and there I 
spent the year of my widowhood. There my father came to me, 
and also my kinsman Isaacs.” \ 

“ Isaacs ! ” impulsively exclaimed Ishmael, as his thoughts 
flew back to his Hebrew fellow-passenger. 

“Yes; did you know him?” 

“I knew a Jew of that name; most probably the same; but 
I beg your pardon, dear lady ; pray proceed with your narrative.” 

“ I mentioned my kinsman Isaacs, because I always suspected 
him to be a party to a stratagem formed by Captain Dugald at 
that time to get me into his power. Captain Dugald scarcely 
let the first six months of my widowhood pass by before he be- 
gan to lay siege to my house; not to me personally; for I al- 
ways denied myself to him. But he came on visits to my kins- 
man Isaacs, with whom he had struck up a great intimacy. He 
had much at stake, you see, for in the first place he did me the 
honor to approve of me personally, and in the second place he 
highly approved of my large fortune. So he persevered with all 
the zeal of a lover and all the tact of a fortune-hunter. Several 
times, through the connivance of my kinsman, he contrived to 
surprise me into an interview, and upon each occasion he urged 
his suit; but of course, in vain. Captain Dugald was what is 
called a ‘dare-devil,^ and I think he rather gloried in that 
name. He acted upon the maxim that ‘ all stratagems are fair 
in love as in war.^ And he resorted to a stratagem to get me into 
his power, and reduce me to the alternative of marrying him 
or losing my good name forever.” 

“ Good Heaven ! he did not attempt to carry you off by vio- 
lence,” exclaimed Claudia. 

The countess laughed. 

“ Oh, no, my dear ! Such things are never attempted in this 
age of the world. Captain Dugald was far too astute to break 


LADY HUESTMONCEUX’S EEVELATIOX. 443 

the laws. I will tell you just how it was, as it came to my knowl- 
edge. My town house fronted immediately on Prince’s Street. 
You know what a thoroughfare that is? My bedroom and 
dressing room were on the second floor — the bedroom being 
at the back, and the dressing room in front, with three large 
windows overlooking the street. Large double doors connected 
the bedroom with the dressing room. I am thus particular in 
describing the locality that you may better understand the vil- 
lainy of the stratagem,” said the countess, looking around upon 
her friends. 

They nodded assent, and she resumed: 

‘^From some peculiar sensitiveness of temperament, I can 
never sleep unless every ray of light is shut out from my cham- 
ber. Thus, at bedtime I have all my windows closed, their 
shutters fastened and their curtains drawn, lest the first dawn 
of morning should awaken me prematurely. Another con- 
stitutional idiosyncrasy of mine is the necessity of a great deal 
of air. Therefore I always had the doors between my bedroom 
and my dressing room left open.” 

After all, that is like my own need ; I require a great deal of 
air also,” said Claudia. 

^^Well, now to my story. On a certain spring morning, in 
the beginning of the second year of my widowhood, I was 
awakened very early by a glare of light in my bedroom. On 
looking up, I saw through the open doors connecting my bed- 
room with my dressing room that the three front windows of the 
dressing room, overlooking the street, were open, and all the 
morning sunlight was pouring in. My first emotion was anger 
with my maid for opening them so soon to wake me up. I got 
out of bed, slipped on a dressing-gown and went into the front 
room. JTow judge what my feelings must have been to see there 
Captain Dugald in his shirt-sleeves, standing before one of the 
front windows deliberately brushing his hair, in the full view 
of all the passengers of the street below.” 

Great Heaven ! ” exclaimed Claudia. 

I could not speak,” continued the countess. I could only 
stand and gaze at the man in speechless amazement. But he 
was not dismayed. He burst into a loud laugh, and laughed 
himself out of breath — for he was a great laugher. When he 
found his tongue, he said to me: 

^^‘You had as well give in now, my lady. The fortress is 
sapped, the mine is exploded. The city is taken. Hundreds of 


444 SELF-EAISED ; OK, FKOM THE DEPTHS. 

people, passing up and down the street before this house, have 
looked up at these windows and seen me standing here half- 
dressed. And they have formed their opinions, and made their 
comments, and circulated their news accordingly ; and so, if our 
marriage be not published this morning, you may judge what 
the consequences will be — to yourself.’ ” 

‘‘What a villain!” said Judge Merlin. 

“Astonishment had struck me dmnb in the first instance; 
and anger kept me silent,” continued the countess. “ I know 
what I ought to have done. I know that I ought to have sum- 
moned the police and given the man in charge on the spot, as 
a common burglar and housebreaker: only you see I did nbt 
think of it at the time. I only rang the bell, and then, with- 
out waiting the arrival of my servant, I opened the door and 
pointed silently to it. He made no motion to go ; on the contrary, 
lie began to defend his act, to plead his cause, and to urge his 
suit. He said ‘ that all stratagems were fair in love and war ’ ; 
that it was now absolutely necessary for my fair name that we 
should be immediately married; that the bride he had won by 
fraud should be worn with faithfulness. But, with an unmoved 
countenance, I only pointed to the door, until my servant came 
in answer to the bell. Then I told that servant to show Captain 
Hugald out, and if he refused to go to summon assistance and 
eject him. Seeing that I was determined to be rid of him, he 
put on his coat, and, laughing at my discomfiture, took his de- 
parture. Then I instituted inquiries; but failed to gain any 
information respecting his means of entrance and concealment 
in my apartments. I strongly suspected my kinsman Isaacs 
of being the accomplice of Captain Hugald ; but I had no means 
of ascertaining the fact by questioning him, as he went away 
that same morning and never returned. The adventure, of 
course, did me some harm at the time; but the unprincipled 
hero of it reaped no advantage. He doubtless thought me an- 
other Lucretia, who would sacrifice the reality to preserve the 
semblance of honor. B e hoped to find in me one who, in the 
base fear of being falsely condemned, would marry a man I de- 
spised, and thus really deserve condemnation. He was disap- 
pointed ! From that hour I forbade him the house, and I have 
never seen him since. A year later I married another,” added 
the countess, in a voice so subdued that, at the close of the sen- 
tence, it gradually sank into silence. 

IshmaeTs beautiful eyes had been bent upon her all the time; 


LADY HUESTMONCEUX’S EEVELATIOX. 445 

now his whole face lighted up with a smile as of a newly in- 
spired, benevolent hope. 

“You were right — entirely right, Lady Hurstmonceux, in 
thus vindicating the dignity of womanhood. And I do not be- 
lieve that any lasting blame, growing out of a misunderstanding 
of the circumstances, could have attached to you,” said Ishmael 
earnestly. 

“iN'o, indeed, there was not. And soon after that event I 
left Edinboro’ for the south coast of England, and at Brighton ” 
— here the voice of the countess sank almost to an inaudible 
whisper — “ at Brighton I met and married another. And now 
let us talk of something else, Ishmael,” she concluded, turning 
an affectionate glance upon the sjnnpathetic face of the young 
man. For there was a wonderful depth of sympathy between 
this queenly woman of forty-five and this princely young man 
of twenty-two. On her side there was the royal, benignant, 
tender friendship with which such sovereign ladies regard such 
young men; while, on his side, there was the loyal devotion 
with which such young men worship such divinities. Such a 
friendship is a blessing when it is understood; a curse when it 
is misapprehended. 

Ishmael turned the conversation to the subject of the act 
of restitution proposed by the Earl of Hurstmonceux. 

Ishmael now possessed the only clear, cool, and undisturbed 
intelligence of the whole party, who were all more or less shaken 
hy the terrible events of the last few days. He had to think 
for them all. He announced his intention of departing for 
London on the ensuing Friday morning, and warned the judge 
that he should require his final instructions for acting in con- 
cert with the solicitors of the Earl of Hurstmonceux. 

The judge promised that these should be ready, in writing, to 
place ill his hands at the moment of his departure. 

“ And while I am in London, had I not better see the agents 
of the ocean steamers, and ascertain how soon we can obtain 
SL passage home for our whole party ? The termination of these 
trials, and the restitution of Lady Vincent’s estate, really leave 
us nothing to do here ; and we know that Lady Vincent is pin- 
ing for the repose of her native home,” said Ishmael. 

“Certainly, certainly, Ishmael! The execution of Erisbie, 
the death of the viscount, the conviction of Mrs. Dugald, and 
the act of the Earl of Hurstmonceux, really, as you say, leave us 
free to go home. I myself, as well as Claudia, pine for my 


446 SELF-EAISED ; OE, FEOM THE DEPTHS. 

Home. And you, Ishmael, though you have not said so, have 
sacrificed already too much of your professional interests to 
our necessities. You should be at your office. What on earth, 
is becoming of your clients all this time ? ” 

I dare say they are taken good care of, sir. Do not think 
of me. Believe me, I have no interests dearer to my heart than 
the welfare and happiness of my friends. Then I shall engage 
a passage for us all, in the first available steamer ? 

think so, Ishmael. There is nothing to keep us here 
longer that I know of; we have nothing to do,” said the judge 
hesitatingly. 

“ I have something yet to do, before I return home,” smiled 
Ishmael, with a quick and quickly withdrawn glance in the di- 
rection of the countess; “but I shall do it before we go, or if 
not I can remain behind for another steamer.” 

“Ho, no, Ishmael! You have stayed long with us; we will 
wait for you. What do you say, Claudia ? ” 

Claudia said nothing. 

Ishmael replied: 

“ I shall endeavor to accomplish all that I propose in time to 
accompany you. Judge Merlin. But if I should not be able to 
do so, still I think that you had better all go by the first steamer 
in which you can get a passage. You should, if possible, cross 
the ocean before March sets in, if you would have anything like 
a comfortable voyage.” 

“Heavens, yes! you are right, Ishmael. Our late voyage 
should teach me a lesson. I must not expose Claudia to the 
chances of such shipwreck as we suffered,” said the judge 
gravely. 

Ishmael turned and looked at Claudia. She had not once 
spoken since her name had been introduced into the conversa- 
tion. She had sat there with her elbow on the table and her 
head bowed upon her hand, in mournful silence. She was look- 
ing perfectly beautiful in her widow’s dress and cap — ^per- 
fectly beautiful with that last divine, perfecting touch that sor- 
row gives to beauty. Surely Ishmael thought so as he looked 
at her. She lifted her drooping lids. Their eyes met; hers 
were suffused with tears ; his were full of earnest sympathy. 

“You shall not be exposed to shipwreck. Lady Vincent,” he 
said, in a voice rich with tenderness. 

Slowly and mournfully she shook her head. 

“ There are other wrecks,” she said : 


LADY HURSTMONCEUX’S REVELATION. 447 

“ ‘ And I beneath a rougher sea, 

O’erwhelmed in deeper gulfs may be.’ ” 

The last words were breathed in a scarcely audible voice, 
and her head sank low upon her hand. 

With a profound sigh, that seemed to come from the very 
depths of his soul, Ishmael turned away. Passing near the 
Countess of Hurstmonceux, he bent his head and murmured: 

“ Lady Vincent seems very weary.” 

The countess took the hint and rang for the bedroom candles, 
and when they were brought, the party bade each other good- 
night, separated, and retired. 

Early the next morning they set out for Edinboro’, where 
they arrived about midday. 

The Countess of Hurstmonceux’s servants, who had received 
telegraphic orders from her ladyship, were waiting at the sta- 
tion with carriages. The whole party entered these and drove 
to Cameron Court, where they arrived in time for an early 
dinner. 

After this, Ishmael and Judge Merlin were closeted in the 
library, and engaged upon the preliminary measures for a final 
arrangement with the Earl of Hurstmonceux’s solicitors. 

The judge, in his good opinion of the earl, would have trusted 
to a simple, informal rendition of his daughter’s fortune; but 
Ishmael, the ever-watchful guardian of her interests, warned 
her father that every legal form must be scrupulously observed 
in the restoration of the property, lest in the event of the 
death of the Earl of Hurstmonceux his brother and successor, 
the disreputable Captain Dugald, should attempt to disturb her 
in its possession. 

The judge acquiesced, and this business occupied the friends 
the whole of that afternoon. In the evening they joined the 
ladies at their tea-table, in the little drawing room. After tea, 
when the service was removed, they gathered around the table 
in social converse. 

A servant brought in a small parcel that looked like a case 
of jewelry done up in paper, and laid it before the countess. 

She smiled, with a deprecating look, as she took it up and 
opened it and passed it around to her friends for inspection. 
It was a miniature of the countess herself, painted on ivory. 
It was a faithful likeness, apparently very recently taken ; for, 
on looking at it, you seemed to see the beautiful countess her- 
self on a diminished scale, or through an inverted telescope. 


448 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

“ It has been making a visit,” smiled the countess. A poor 
young artist in Edinboro’ is getting up a ‘ Book of Beauty ’ on 
his own account. He came here in person to beg the loan of one 
of my portraits to engrave from. I gave him this, because it 
was the last I had taken. I gave it to him because a refusal 
from me would have wounded his feelings and discouraged his 
enterprise. Otherwise, I assure you, I should not have let him 
have it for any such purpose as he designed. For the idea of 
putting my portrait in a ‘ Book of Beauty ’ is a rich absurdity.’^ 

“ Pardon me ; I do not see the absurdity at all,” said Ishmael 
earnestly, as in his turn he received the miniature and gazed 
with admiration on its beautiful features. 

Young gentleman, I am forty-five,” said the countess. 

Ishmael gave a genuine start of surprise. He knew of course 
that she must have been of that age, but he had forgotten the 
flight of time, and the announcement startled him. He soon 
recovered himself, however, and answered with his honest 
smile : 

“Well, my lady, if you are still beautiful at forty-five, yon 
cannot help it, and you cannot prevent artistic eyes from seeing 
it. I, as one of your friends, am glad and grateful for it. And 
I hope you will remain as beautiful in form as in spirit even to 
the age of seventy-five, or as long after that as you may live in 
this world.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Worth. I really do value praise from you, 
because I know that it is sincere on your part, if not merited 
on mine,” said Lady Hurstmonceux. 

Ishmael bowed low and in spence. Then he resumed his con- 
templation of the picture. And presently he looked up and 
said : 

“ Lady Hurstmonceux, I am going to ask you a favor. Will 
you lend me this picture for a week ? ” 

The countess was a little surprised at the request. She 
looked up at Ishmael before answering it. 

Their eyes met. Some mutual intelligence passed in those 
meeting glances. And she then answered: 

“Yes, Mr. Worth. I will intrust it to you as long as you 
would like to keep it; without reserve, and vdthout even ask- 
ing you what you wish to do with it.” 

Again Ishmael bowed, and then he closed the case of the 
miniature and deposited it in his breast-pocket. 

“I hope that youth is not falling in love with his grand- 


ishmael’s eeeand. 449 

mother. I have heard of such things in my life,” thought the 
judge crossly within himself, for the judge was growing jealous 
for Claudia. He had apparently forgotten the existence of 
Bee. 

As Ishmael was to leave Cameron Court at a very early 
hour of the morning, before any of the family would be likely 
to be up to see him off, he took leave of his friends upon this 
evening, and retired early to his room to complete his prepara- 
tions for the journey. 


CHAPTEE LI. 
ishmael’s errand. 

I tell thee, friend, I have not seen 
So likely an ambassador of love; 

A day in April never came so sweet, 

To show that costly summer was at hand. 

— Shakspeare. 

Ishmael left Edinboro^ by the earliest express train for Lon- 
don, where he arrived at nightfall. 

He took a cab and drove immediately to Morley’s Hotel in 
the Strand, where Herman Brudenell was stopping. 

Carpet-bag in hand, Ishmael was shown into that gentleman^s 
sitting room. 

Hr. Brudenell sat writing at a table, but on hearing Mr, 
Worth announced and seeing him enter, he started up, threw 
down his pen, and rushed to welcome the traveler. 

“ My dear, dear boy, a thousand welcomes ! ” he exclaimed, 
heartily shaking IshmaePs hands. 

“ I am very glad to come and see you again, sir. I hope that 
you are quite well ? ” said Ishmael, cordially responding to this 
warm welcome. 

“ As well as a solitary man can be, my dear boy. How did you 
leave our friends? In good health, I trust.” 

“ Yes ; in tolerably good health, considering the circum- 
stances. They are of course somewhat shaken by the terri- 
ble events of the last few days.” 

I should think so. Heaven ! what an ordeal to have passed 
through. Poor Claudia. How has she borne it all ? ” 

^^With the most admirable firmness. Claudia — Lady Vin- 
cent, I should say— has come out of her fiery trial like refined 
gold,” said Ishmael warmly. 


450 SELF-EAISEB ; 0 % FROM THE DEPTHS. 

A fiery trial, indeed. Ishmael, I have read the full account 
of the Banff tragedy, as they call it, in all the morning papers; 
no two of them agreeing in all particulars. The account in the 
‘ Times ’ I hold to be the most reliable ; it is at least the fullest 
— it occupies nearly two pages of that great paper.” 

“ You are right; the account in the ‘ Times ’ is the true one.” 

“ But, bless my life, I am keeping you standing here, carpet- 
bag in hand, all this time ! Have you engaged your room ? ” 

“Ho; they say the house is full.” 

“ Hot quite ! Mine is a double-bedded chamber. You shall 
share it with me, if you like. What do you say ? ” 

“ Thank you, I should like it very much.” 

“ Come in, then, and have a wash and a change of clothes; 
after which we will have supper. What would you like ? ” 

“Anything at all. I know they cannot send up a bad one 
here.” 

Mr. Brudenell touched the bell. The waiter speedily an- 
swered it. 

“Supper directly, James. Four dozen oysters; a roast fowl; 
baked potatoes ; muffins ; a bottle of sherry ; and, and, black tea ! 
— that is your milksop beverage, I believe, Ishmael,” added Mr. 
Brudenell, in a low voice, turning to his guest. 

“ That is my milksop beverage,” replied Ishmael good-hu- 
moredly. 

The waiter went away on his errand. And Mr. Brudenell 
conducted Ishmael into the adjoining chamber, where the young 
man found an opportunity of renovating his toilet. When they 
returned to the sitting room they found the supper served and 
the waiter in attendance, but it was not until the traveler had 
done full justice to this meal, and the service was removed, 
and the waiter was gone, and the father and son were alone 
together, that they entered upon the confidential topics. 

Mr. Brudenell questioned Ishmael minutely upon all the de- 
tails of the Banff tragedy. And Ishmael satisfied him in every 
particular. One circumstance in these communications was no- 
ticeable — Mr. Brudenell, in all his questionings, never once men- 
tioned the name of the Countess of Hurstmonceux. And even 
Ishmael avoided bringing it into his answers. 

When Mr. Brudenell had learned all that he wanted to know, 
Ishmael in his turn said: 

“ I hope, sir, that the business which brought you to England 
has been satisfactorily settled ? ” 


. 451 


ishmael’s ekeand. 

Mr. Bnidenell sighed heavily. 

“It has been settled, not very satisfactorily, but after a 
fashion, Ishmael. I never told you exactly what that business 
was. I intended to do so; and I will do it now.” 

Mr. Brudenell paused as if he were embarrassed, and doubtful 
in what terms to tell so unpleasant a story. Ishmael settled 
himself to attend. 

“ It was connected with my mother and sisters, Ishmael. 
They have been living abroad here for many years, as you have 
perhaps heard.” 

“ Yes.” 

“And they have been living far above their means and far 
above mine. And consequently debts and difficulties and em- 
barrassments have come. Again and again I have made large 
sacrifices and settled all claims against them. I am sorry to 
say it of my mother and sisters, Ishmael; but if the truth must 
be told, their pride and extravagance have ruined them and 
me, so far as financial ruin goes. If that had been all, it might 
have been borne. But there was worse to come. About a year 
ago my sister Eleanor — ^who had reached an age when single 
women begin to despair of marriage — formed the acquaintance 
of a disreputable scoundrel, one Captain Dugald, a younger 
brother, I hear, of the present Earl of Hurstmonceux ” 

“ Captain Dugald ! I have heard of him ! ” exclaimed Ish- 
mael. 

“No doubt, most people have. He is rather a notorious char- 
acter. Well, my infatuated sister took a fancy to the fellow; 
misled him into the belief that she was the mistress of a large 
fortune; and played her cards so skillfully that — well, in a 
word, the handsome scamp ran off with her, or rather she ran off 
with him; for she seems all through to have taken the iniative 
in her own ruin.” 

“ But I do not understand why she should have run off ? She ^ 
was of ripe age and her own mistress. Who was there to run 
from ? ” 

“ Her mother, her mother ; who could not endure the sight 
of Captain Dugald, and who had forbidden him her house.” 

“ Ah!” 

“ Well, they were married at Liverpool. He took her to the 
United States. At my mother’s request I followed them there 
to reclaim my sister, for report said that the captain had al- 
ready another wife when he married Eleanor. This report. 


452 SELF-EAISED ; OE, FEOM THE DEPTHS. 

however, I have ascertained to be without foundation. I could 
not find them in the United States, and soon gave up the search. 
Captain Dugald had no love for my sister. He appears to have 
treated her brutally from the first hour that he got her into his 
power. And when he learned that she had deceived him, — de- 
ceived him in every way, in regard to her fortune, in regard 
to her age, in regard to her very beauty, which was but the 
effect of skillful dress, — he conceived a disgust for her, abused 
her shamefully, and finally abandoned her in poverty, in sick- 
ness, and in debt.” \ 

“Poor, unhappy lady; what else could she have expected? 
She must have been mad,” said Ishmael. 

“Mad — madness don’t begin to explain it. She must have 
been possessed of a devil. When thus left, she sold a few miser- 
able trinkets of jewelry his cupidity had spared her, and took a 
steerage passage in one of our steamers and followed him back 
to England; but here lost sight of him, for it seems that he is 
somewhere on the Continent. She came to my mother’s house 
in London in the condition of a beggar, knowing that she was a 
pauper, and fearing that she was not a wife. In this state of 
affairs my mother wrote, summoning me to her assistance. I 
came over as you know. I have ascertained that my sister’s 
marriage is a perfectly legal one; but I have not succeeded in 
finding her scoundrel of a husband and bringing him to book. 
He is still on the Continent somewhere; hiding from his credi- 
tors, it is said.” 

“ And his unhappy wife ? ” 

“Is on her voyage to America. I have sent them all home, 
Ishmael. They must live quietly at Brudenell Hall.” 

“But now that the Viscount Vincent is dead, and Captain 
Dugald becomes the heir presumptive to the earldom of Hurst- 
monceux, his prospects are so much improved that I should 
think he would return to England without fear of annoyance 
from his creditors; such gentry being usually very complaisant 
to the heirs of rich earldoms.” 

“ I doubt if he will live to inherit the title and estate, Ish- 
mael. He is nearly eaten up by alcohol. Eleanor, I know, will 
not live long. She is in the last stage of consumption. Her re- 
pose at Brudenell Hall may alleviate her sufferings, but cannot 
save her life,” said Mr. Brudenell sadly. “ I have only waited 
until your business here should be concluded, Ishmael, in order 
to return thither myself. You have nothing more to do, how- 


ISHMAEL^S ERE AND. 453 

ever, but to act for Judge Merlin in this matter of restitution, 
and then you will be ready to go, I presume.” 

‘^Yes; I have something else to do, sir. I have to expose a 
villain, to vindicate a lady, and to reconcile a long-estranged 
pair,” replied Ishmael, in a nervous tone, yet with smiling eyes. 

“Why, what have you been doing but just those things? 
What was Lord Vincent? What was Claudia? What was your 
part in that affair? Never, since the renowned Knight of 
Mancha, the great Don Quixote, lived and died, has there been 
so devoted a squire of dames, so brave a champion of the 
wronged, as yourself, Ishmael,” said Mr. Brudenell. 

“You may laugh, but you shall not laugh me out of my next 
enterprise, or ‘ adventure,^ as the illustrious personage you have 
quoted would call it. And, by the way, do you know anything of 
a fellow-passenger of ours in the late voyage, the German Jew, 
Ezra Isaacs ? ” 

“No; why?” 

“ I need him in the prosecution of this adventure.” 

“ I have not seen him since we parted at Liverpool. I know 
nothing whatever about him.” 

“ Well, then, after I have been at the chambers of Messrs. 
Hudson, I must go to Scotland Yard, and put the affair in the 
hands of the detectives, for have Isaacs hunted up I must.'' 

“ Is he the villain you are about to expose ? ” 

“No; but he has been the tool of that villain, and I want him 
for a sort of state’s evidence against his principal.” 

“Ah! I wish you joy of your adventure, Ishmael. It reminds 
one forcibly of the windmills,” said Mr. Brudenell. 

Ishmael laughed good-humoredly. 

“I think it will do so, sir, when you find that the objects 
that you have been mistaking for giants are only windmills 
after all,” he said. 

“ I do not understand you, my dear fellow.” 

Ishmael took from his breast-pocket the miniature of the 
Countess of Hurstmonceux, and opening it and gazing upon it, 
he said: 

“ This is the likeness of the injured lady whose honor I have 
sworn to vindicate.” 

“Is it Claudia’s?” inquired Mr. Brudenell, stretching his 
hand for it. 

“No, it is not Lady Vincent’s. Pardon me, upon second 
thoughts, sir. I wish to tell you this lady’s story before I show 


454 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

you her portrait,” answered Iskmael, shutting the case and 
returning it to his pocket. 

Mr. Brudenell sat back, looking puzzled and attentive. 

“ This lady was the young and beautiful widow of an aged 
peer. She was as pure and noble as she was fair and 
lovely. She was sought in marriage by many attractive suitors ; 
but in vain, for she would not bestow her hand where she could 
not bestow her heart. Among the most persevering of these 
suitors was a profligate fortune-hunter, who, as the near rela- 
tive of her late husband, had the entree into her house--^ — 
Ah ! I think I have heard this story before,” said Mr. Bru- 
denell, with the slightest possible sneer on his handsome lip. 

“ One side of it, sir, the false side. Hear the other, and the 
true one. The beautiful widow repulsed this suitor in disgust, 
and peremptorily forbade him the house. Determined not to be 
baffled, he resorted to a stratagem that should have sent him 
to the hulks — that did, in fact, banish him from all decent so- 
ciety. Are you listening, sir ? ” 

“ With all my soul,” said Mr. Brudenell, whose mocking sneer 
had disappeared before an earnest interest. 

“ By tempting the cupidity of a poor kinsman, who was a 
member of the young widow’s family, he managed to get him- 
self secretly admitted to her house and concealed in her dressing 
room, whose front windows overlooked the street. In the morn- 
ing this man opened one of these windows, and stood before it 
half -dressed, in full view of the street, brushing his hair for the 
entertainment of the passers-by. The glare of light from the 
open window, shining through the open door into the adjoin- 
ing bedchamber of the sleeping beauty, awakened her. At 
sight of the sacrilegious intruder, she was so struck with con- 
sternation that she could not speak. He took advantage of his 
position and her panic, to press his repugnant suit. He plead 
that his ardent passion and her icy coldness had driven him to 
desperation and to extremity. He argued that all stratagems 
were fair in love. He begged her to forgive him and to marry 
him, and warned her that her reputation was irretrievably com- 
promised if she did not do so.” 

Ishmael paused, and looked to see what effect this story was 
having upon Mr. BrudeneU. Herman- Brudenell was listening 
with breathless interest. 

Ishmael continued, speaking earnestly, for his heart was in 
his theme: 


455 


ishmael’s eerand. 

But the beautiful and spirited young widow was not one to 
be terrified into a measure that her soul abhorred. Her first 
act, on recovering the possession of her senses, was to ring the 
bell and order the ejectment of the intruder; and despite his 
attempts at explanation and remonstrance, this order was 
promptly obeyed, and the lady never saw him afterward. Soon 
after this she left Edinboro’ for the south of England. At 
Brighton she met with a gentleman who afterward became her 
husband. But ah! this gentleman, some time subsequent to 
their marriage, received a one-sided account of that affair in 
Edinboro’. He was then young, sensitive, and jealous. He be- 
lieved all that was told him; he asked no explanation of his 
young wife; he silently abandoned her. And she — faithful to 
the one love of her life — has lived through all her budding 
youth and blooming womanhood in loneliness and seclusion, 
passing her days in acts of charity and devotion. Circumstances 
have lately placed in my power the means of vindicating this 
lady’s honor, even to the satisfaction of her unbelieving hus- 
band.” 

Ishmael paused, and looked earnestly into the troubled face 
of Herman Brudenell. 

“ Ishmael,” he exclaimed, of course I have known all along 
that you have been speaking of my wife. Lady Hurstmonceux. 
If you have not been deceived; if the truth is just what it has 
been represented to you to be ; if she was indeed innocent of all 
complicity in that nocturnal visit; then, Ishmael, I have done 
her a great, an unpardonable, an irreparable wrong.” 

^‘You have done that lovely lady great wrong indeed, sir; 
but not an unpardonable, not an irreparable one. She will be 
as ready to pardon as you to offer reparation. And in her lovely 
humility she will never know that there has been anything to 
pardon. Angels are not implacable, sir. If you doubt my judg- 
ment in this matter, look on her portrait now,” said Ishmael, 
taking her miniature once more from his coat-pocket, opening 
it, and laying it before Herman Brudenell. 

Mr. Brudenell slowly raised it, and wistfully gaxed upon it. 

Is it a faithful portrait, Ishmael ? ” he asked. 

“ So faithful that it is like herself seen through a diminish- 
ing glass.” 

“ She is very, very beautiful — ^more beautiful even than she 
was in her early youth,” said Mr. Brudenell, thoughtfully gaz- 
ing upon the miniature. 


456 self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

“Yes, I can imagine that she is more beautiful now than 
she was in her early youth; more beautiful with the heavenly 
beauty of the spirit added to the earthly beauty of the flesh. 
Look at that picture, dear sir; fancy those charming features, 
living, smiling, speaking, and you will be better able to judge 
how beautiful is your wife. Oh, sir! I think that in the times 
past you never loved that sweet lady as she deserved to be loved ; 
but if you were to meet her now, you would love her as you 
never loved her before.” 

“ If I were to meet her ? Why, supposing that I have wronged 
her as much as you say, how could I ever venture to present 
myself before her ? ” 

“How could you ever venture? Oh, sir! because she loves 
you. There are women, sir, who love but once in all their lives, 
and then love forever. The Countess of Hurstmonceux is one 
of these. Sir, since I have lived in daily companionship with 
her, I have been led to study her with affectionate interest. I 
have read her life as a wondrous poem. Her soul has been 
filled with one love. Her heart is the shrine of one idol. And 
oh, sir! believe me the future holds no hope of happiness so 
sweet to that lovely lady as a reunion with the husband of her 
youth.” 

“Ah, Ishmael! if I could believe this, my own youth would 
be restored; I should have a motive to live. You said, just 
now, that in the old sad times I had not loved this lady as she 
deserved to be loved. Ho — married her hastily, impulsively 
— ^flattered by her evident preference for me; and just as I was 
bginning to know all her worth and beauty, lo ! this fact of the 
nocturnal sojourn of the profligate Captain Dugald came to my 
knowledge — came to my knowledge with a convincing power, 
beyond all possibility of questioning. Oh, you see, I discovered 
the bare fact, without the explanation of it ! I believed myself 
the dupe of a clever adventuress, and my love was nipped in 
the bud. If I could believe otherwise now, — if I could believe 
that she was innocent in that affair, and that she has loved me 
all these years, and been true to that love, and is ready and will- 
ing to forgive and forget the long, sorrowful past, — ^Ishmael, 
instead of being the most desolate, I should be the most con- 
tented man alive. I should feel like a shipwrecked sailor, long 
tossed about on the stormy sea, arriving safe at home at last ! ” 
said Mr. Brudenell, gazing most longingly upon the picture 
Jie held in his hand. 


ishmael’s ekeand. 457 

Ishmael was too wise to interrupt that contemplation by a 
single word at this moment. 

“ The thought that such a woman as this, Ishmael, — so richly 
endowed in beauty of form and mind and heart, — should bo my 
loving companion for life, seems to me too great a hope for 
mortal man to indulge.” 

Ishmael did not speak. 

“ But here is the dilemma, my dear boy ! either she did de- 
ceive me, or she did not. If she did deceive me, lovely as she 
is, I wish never to see her again. If she did not deceive me, 
then I have wronged her so long and so bitterly that she must 
wish never to see me again ! ” sighed Mr. Brudenell, as he 
mournfully closed the case of the miniature. 

Then Ishmael spoke: 

Oh, sir ! I have resolved to vindicate the honor of this lady, 
and I will do it. Soon I will have the German Jew, Ezra 
Isaacs, looked up ; for he it was who, tempted by the false rep- 
resentations of Captain Dugald, secretly admitted him to her 
house and concealed him in her dressing room. And he shall 
be brought to confess it. Then you will see, sir, the perfect 
innocence of the countess. And for the rest, if you wish to 
prove her undiminished love; her perfect willingness to for- 
get the past ; her eagerness for a reconciliation — go to her, prove 
it all; and, oh, sir, be happier in your sober, middle age than 
ever you hoped t? be, even in your sanguine youth.” 

The young man spoke so fervently, so strongly, so earnestly 
that Mr. Brudenell seized his hand, and gazing affectionately 
in his eloquent face, said : 

“ What a woman’s advocate you are, Ishmael ! ” 

It is because a woman’s spirit has hovered over me, from 
the beginning of my life, I think.” 

“Your angel mother’s spirit, Ishmael. Ah, brighter, and 
sweeter and dearer than all things in my life, is the n emory 
of that pastoral poem of my boyish love. It is the one oj sis in 
the desert of my life.” 

“Forget it, dear sir; forget it all. Think of your boyhood 
love as an angel in heaven, and love her only so. Do this for 
the sake of that sweet lady who has a right to your exclusive 
earthly devotion.” 

“ Oh, strange, and passing strange, that Hora’s son should 
advocate the cause of I^ora’s rival!” said Herman Brudenell 
wonderingly. 


458 self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

Not Nora’s rival, sir. An angel in heaven, beaming in the 
light of God’s smile, can never have a rival — least of all, a 
rival in a pilgrim of this earth. For the rest, if Nora’s son 
speaks, it is because Nora’s spirit inspires him,” said Ishmael 
solemnly. 

“ Your life, indeed, seems to have been angel-guided, and your 
counsels angel-inspired, Ishmael; and they shall guide me. 
Yes, Nora’s son; in this crisis of my fate your hand shall lead 
me. And I know that it will lead me into a haven of rest.” 

Soon after this the father and son retired for the night. 

Ishmael, secure in his own happy love and easy in his blame- 
less conscience, soon fell asleep. 

Herman Brudenell lay awake, thinking over all that he had 
heard; blaming himself for his share of the sorrowful past, and 
seeing always the figure of the beautiful countess in her years 
of lonely widowhood. 

It is something for a solitary and homeless man, like Her- 
man Brudenell, to discover suddenly that he has for years been 
the sole object of a good and beautiful woman’s love, and to 
know that a home as happy and a wife as lovely as his youthful 
imagination ever pictured were now waiting to receive him, if 
he would come and take possession. 

Early the next morning Ishmael arose, refreshed, from a good 
night’s rest; but Mr. Brudenell got up, weary, from a sleepless 
pillow. 

It was to be a busy day with Ishmael, so, after a hasty break- 
fast, he took a temporary leave of Mr. Brudenell and set out. 
His first visit was to the chambers of the Messrs. Hudson, so- 
licitors, Burton Street, Piccadilly. Where all parties are agreed 
business must be promptly dispatched, despite of even the law’s 
proverbial delays. The Earl of Hurstmonceux and Judge 
Merlin were quite agreed in this affair of restitution, and there- 
fore their attorneys could have little trouble. 

As the reader knows, upon the marriage of the Viscount Vin- 
cent and Claudia Merlin, there had been no settlements ; there- 
fore the whole of the bride’s fortune became the absolute prop- 
erty of the bridegroom. Subsequently, Lord Vincent had died 
intestate; therefore Claudia as his widow would have been 
legally entitled to but a portion of that very fortune she herself 
had brought to him in marriage; all the rest falling to the vis- 
count’s family, or rather to its representative, the Earl of Hurst- 
monceux. It was this legal injustice that the earl wished tq 


ISHMAEl’s ERRA]Sl). 459 

fectify, by making over to Lady Vincent all bis right, title, 
and interest in the estate left by the deceased Lord Vincent. 
This business he had intrusted to his solicitors, giving them full 
power to act in his name, and Ishmael, with the concurrence 
of J udge Merlin, made it his business to see that every binding, 
legal form was observed in the transfer, so that Lady Vincent 
should rest undisturbed in her possessions by any grasping 
heir that might succeed the Earl of Hurstmonceux. 

When this arrangement with the Messrs. Hudson was satis- 
factorily completed, Ishmael entered a cab and drove to Scot- 
land Yard. He succeeded in obtaining an immediate interview 
with Inspector Meadows, to whose hands he committed the task 
of looking up the German Jew, Ezra Isaacs. Hext he drove 
to Broad Street, to the agency of a celebrated line of ocean 
steamers. After looking over their programme of steamers ad- 
vertised to sail, and reading the list of passengers booked for 
each, he found that he could engage berths for his whole party 
in a fine steamer to sail that day fortnight, from Liverpool for 
Hew York. He secured the berths by paying the passage money 
down and taking tickets at once. Finally, he re-entered the cab 
and drove back to his hotel. He found that Mr. Brudenell had 
walked out. That did not surprise Ishmael. Mr. Brudenell 
generally did walk out. Like all homeless, solitary, and unoccu- 
pied men, Mr. Brudenell had formed rambling habits; and had 
he been a degree or so lower in the social scale, he must have 
been classed among the vagrants. 

Ishmael sat down in the unoccupied parlor to write to Judge 
Merlin. He told the judge of the satisfactory completion of his 
business with the solicitors of the Earl of Hurstmonceux; and 
that he had the documents effecting the restitution of Lady 
Vincent’s property in his own safe-keeping; that he did not like 
to trust them to the mail, but would bring them in person when 
he should return to Edinboro’, which would be as soon as a 
little affair that he had in hand could be arranged; and he 
hinted that Mr. Brudenell would probably accompany him to 
Scotland. Finally, he informed the judge that he had en- 
gaged passages for their party in the ocean mail steamer “ Co- 
lumbus,” to sail on Saturday, the 15th, from Liverpool for Hew 
York. He ended with sending affectionate respects to Lady 
Vincent and the Countess of Hurstmonceux. Being ai^ious 
to catch the afternoon mail at the last moment, Ishmael did not 
intrust the delivery of this letter to the waiters of the hotel, 


460 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

but took his hat and hurried out to post it himself. By paying 
the extra penny exacted for late letters he got it into the mail 
and then walked back to the hotel. 

Mr. Brudenell had returned, and at the moment of IshmaeFs 
entrance he was in solemn consultation with the waiter about 
the dinner. After dinner that day Ishmael went out to visit 
the tower of London, to him the most interesting of all the an- 
cient buildings in that ancient city. At night he went with Mr. 
Brudenell to the old classic Drury Lane Theater to see Kean in 
“Richard III.” After that intellectual festival they returned 
to Morley’s to supper and to bed. On Sunday morning they 
attended divine service at St. Paul’s. The next morning, Ish- 
mael, with Mr. Brudenell, paid a visit to Westminster 
Abbey, where the tombs of the ancient kings and warriors en- 
gaged their attention nearly the whole day. It was late in the 
afternoon when they returned to Morley’s, where the first thing 
Ishmael heard was that a person was waiting for him in the 
parlor. 

Mr. Brudenell went directly to his chamber to change his 
dress, but Ishmael repaired to the parlor, where he expected 
to see someone from Scotland Yard. 

He found the German Jew sitting there. 

“ Why, Isaacs ? Is this you, already ? I am very glad to see 
yoli ! Mr. Meadows sent you, I suppose ? ” said Ishmael, ad- 
vancing and shaking hands with his visitor. 

“Mishter Meators? Who is he? Ko, Mishter Meators tit 
not zend me here; no one tit; I gome myzelf. I saw your name 
in te list of arrivals at dish house, bublished in tish morningsh 
babers. Ant I zaid — dish is te name of von drue shentlemans; 
ant I’ll gall to see him; and here I am,” replied the Jew, cor- 
dially returning Ishmael’s shake of the hand. 

“ Thank you, Isaacs, for your good opinion of me. Sit down. 
I have been very anxious to see you, to speak to you on a sub- 
ject that I must broach at once, lest we should be interrupted 
before we have discussed it,” said Ishmael, who was desirous of 
bringing Isaacs to confession before the entrance of Mr. Bru- 
denell. 

“ Sbeak ten! ” said the Jew, settling himself in the big arm- 
chair. 

“ Isaacs, you had a beautiful kinswoman of whom you used to 
si)eak to me on our voyage; but you never told me her name,” 
said Ishmael gravely, seating himself near the Jew, 


461 


ishmael’s ekrand. 

TiWt I, verily? Veil, her name vas Berenice, daughter of 
Zillah ; Zillah vas mine moder’s shister, and vas very fair to look 
upon. She marriet mit a rish Lonton Shew, and tiet leafing 
von fair daughter Berenice, mine kinsvoman, who marriet mit 
an English lort; very olt, very boor, put very mush in love mit 
my kinsvoman. He marriet her pecause zhe was fair to look 
upon and very rish; her fader made her marry him pecause he 
was a lort; he zoon tied and left her a witow, ant zhe never 
marriet again ; zhe left te country and vas away many years ant 
I have nod zeen her zince. My fair kinswoman! Zhe hat a 
great wrong done her! ” said the Jew, dropping his chin upon 
his chest and falling into sad and penitential reverie. 

‘‘Yes, Isaacs,” said Ishmael, rising and laying his hand sol- 
enmly on the breast of the Jew. “Yes, Isaacs, she had a great 
wrong done her, a greater wrong than even you can imagine; 
a wrong so great in its devastating effects upon her life that 
you cannot even estimate its enormity! But, Isaacs, you can 
do something to right this wrong ! ” 

“I! Eader Abraham, what can I?” exclaimed the Jew, im- 
pressed and frightened by the earnestness of Ishmael’s words. 

“ You can make a full disclosure of the circumstances under 
which the miscreant Dromlie Dugald obtained access to Lady 
Hurstmonceux^s private apartments.” 

The Jew gazed up in the young man’s face, as though he was 
unable to withdraw his eyes; he seemed to be held spellbound 
by the powerful magnetism of Ishmael’s spirit. 

“Isaacs,” continued the young man, “whatever may he the 
nature of these disclosures, I promise you that you shall be 
held free of consequences — I promise you; and you know the 
value of my promise.” 

The Jew did not answer and did not remove his eyes from 
the earnest, eloquent face of Ishmael. 

“ So you see, Isaacs, that your disclosures, while they will de- 
liver the countess from the suspicions under which her happi- 
ness has drooped for so many years, can do you no injury. 
And now, Isaacs, I ask you, as man speaking to man, a question 
that I adjure you to answer, as you shall answer at that great 
day of account, when quick and dead shall stand before the bar 
of God, and the secret of all hearts shall be revealed— did you 
admit Dromlie Dugald to the private apartments of the 
Countess of Hurstmonceux, without the knowledge or the con- 
sent of her ladyship ? ” 


462 self-eaised; ok, from the depths. 

“Cot forgive me, I tit!” exclaimed the Jew, in a low terri- 
fied voice. 

“ That will do, Isaacs,” said Ishmael, ringing the bell. 

A waiter came. 

“ Is there an unoccupied sitting room that I can have the use 
of for a short time ? ” inquired Ishmael. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Show me to it immediately, then.” 

The waiter led the way, and Ishmael, beckoning the Israelite 
to accompany him, followed to a comfortable little parlor, 
warmed by a bright little fire, such as they kept always ready 
for chance guests. ^ 

“ Writing materials, James,” said Ishmael. 

The man went for them ; and while he was gone, Ishmael said : 

“We mi^ht have been interrupted in the other room, Isaacs; 
that is the reason why I have brought you here.” 

When the waiter had returned with the writing materials, 
and arranged them on the table, and again had withdrawn from 
the room, Ishmael drew a chair to the table, seated himself, 
took a pen, and said: 

“ How Isaacs, sit down near me, and relate, as faithfully as 
you can, all the circumstances attending the concealment of 
Dromlie Dugald in Lady Hurstmonceux’s apartments.” 

•The Jew, as if acting under the spell of a powerful spirit, 
did as he was ordered. He drew a chair to the table, seated 
himself opposite Ishmael, and — to use a common phrase — “ made 
a clean breast of it.” 

I will not attempt to give his confession in detail. I will 
only give the epitome of it. He acknowledged that he had been 
bribed by Captain Dugald to favor his (the captain’s) addresses 
to the beautiful young widow. But he solemnly declared that 
he had supposed himself to be acting as much for the lady’s good 
as for his own interest, when he took the captain’s money and 
admitted him freely to the house of his kinswoman, where he 
himself was staying, a temporary guest, and where he received 
her suitor as his visitor. 

Farther, he more solemnly declared that on that fatal evening 
when he secretly admitted the captain to the house, and guided 
him to the boudoir of the countess, he had not the remotest 
suspicion of the nefarious purpose of the suitor. He thought 
Dugald merely wished for an opportunity for pressing his suit. 
He had no idea that the unscrupulous villain designed to con- 


ishmael's errand. 


463 


ceal himself in the closet of the dressing room, and so pass the 
night in Lady Hurstmonceux’s apartments, and show himself 
in the morning in dishabille at her open window, for the bene- 
fit of all the passengers through the street. 

He affirmed that when in the morning he heard of this in- 
famous abuse of confidence on the part of his patron, he had 
^ not had courage to meet his kinswoman at breakfast, but had 
decamped from the house in great haste, and had never seen the 
countess since that eventful day. 

He said that he had heard how much she had suffered from 
the affair, at least for a short time ; and that afterwards he had 
heard she had left the country; that he had since supposed the 
whok- circumstance had been forgotten, and he did not even now 
understand how his disclosures should serve her, since no one 
now remembered the escapade of Captain Dugald. 

As Isaacs spoke, Ishmael took down the statement in writing. 
[When it was finished he turned to the Jew and said : 

“ You are mistaken in one thing — nay, indeed, in two things, 
Isaacs! The first is, in the supposition that your disclosures 
cannot now serve the countess, since the world has long ago 
done her full justice. It is true that the world has done her 
full justice, for there is no lady living more highly esteemed 
than is the Countess of Hurstmonceux. So if the world were 
only in question, Isaacs, I need never have troubled you to 
speak. But there is an individual in question; and this brings 
me to your second mistake- in the matter; namely, in the sup- 
position that the countess never married again. She did marry 
again; but, a few months subsequent to her marriage, her 
husband heard the story of Captain Dugald’s adventure, as it 
was then circulated and believed; and he thought himself the 
dupe of a cunning adventuress, and estranged himself from 
his wife from that day until this.’^ 

Fader Abraham!” exclaimed the Jew, raising both his 
hands in consternation. 

‘‘Providence has lately put me in possession of all the facts 
in this case, and has enabled me to pave the way for a recon- 
ciliation between the long-severed pair — supposing that you 
will have the moral courage to do your kinswoman justice.” 

“ Fader Abraham, I vill do her shustice I I vill do her more 
as shustice. I vill tell te whole truth. I vill tell more as te 
whole truth, and shwear to it. I vill do anyding. I vould do 
anyding alt te time, if I had known it,” s^jd the Jew earnestly. 


464 self-kaised; oe, feom the depths. 

“ Thank you, Isaacs, I only want the simple truth ; more 
than that would do us harm instead of good. This is the simple 
truth, I hope, that I have taken down from your lips ? ” 

“Yesh, tat ish te zimple truth!” 

“ I will read the whole statement to you, Isaacs, and then you 
will be able to see whether I have taken down your words cor- 
rectly,” said Ishmael. And he took up the manuscript and read 
it carefully through, pausing frequently to give the Jew an 
opportunity of correcting him, if necessary. 

‘‘Dat ish all right,” said Isaacs, when the reading was fin- 
ished. 

^‘hTow sign it, Isaacs.” 

The Jew affixed his signature. 

“Now, Isaacs that is all I want of you for the present; but 
should you be required to make oath to the truth of this, I 
suppose that you will be found ready to do so.” 

“ Fader Abraham ! yes, I vill do anyding at all, or any ding 
else, to serve mine kinswoman,” said the Jew, rising. 

“ Thank you, Isaacs. Now tell me where I shall find you, 
in case you shall be wanted?” 

“I am lotging mit mine frient, Samuel Phineas, Butter 
Lane, Burrough.” 

“ I will remember. Thank you, Isaacs. You have done your 
kinswoman and her friends good service. She will be grateful 
to you. I have no doubt she will send for you. Would you like 
to come to her ? ” 

“Mit all my feet. Vere ish she?” 

“At her country-seat, Cameron Court, near Edinboro^” 

“ I ton’t know id.” 

“No, you don’t know it. It is a comparatively recent pur- 
chase of her ladyship, I believe,” said Ishmael, rising to ac- 
company the Jew from the room. 

As they went out they rang the bell, to warn the waiter that 
they had evacuated the apartment. In the hall Isaacs bade him. 
good-afternoon, and Ishmael turned into the sitting room oc- 
cupied in common by himself and Mr. Brudenell. He found 
the table laid for dinner and Mr. Brudenell walking impatiently 
up and down the floor. 

“ Ah, you are there! I was afraid you would be late, and the 
fish and the soup would be spoiled, but here you are in the very 
nick of time,” he said, as he touched the bell. “ Dinner imme- 
diately,” he continued, addressing himself to the waiter, who 


465 


ishmael’s errand. 

answered liis summons. But it was not until after dinner was 
over, and the cloth removed, and Mr. Brudenell had finished 
his bottle of claret and smoked out his principe, that Ishmael 
told him of his interview with Isaacs, and laid the written state- 
ment of the Jew before him. Mr. Brudenell read it carefully 
through, with the deepest interest. When he had finished it, 
, he slowly folded it up and placed it in his breast pocket, dropped 
his head upon his chest, and remained in deep thought and per- 
fect silence. 

After the lapse of a few moments Ishmael spoke: 

If you think it needful, sir, Isaacs is ready to go before a 
magistrate and make oath to the truth of that statement.” 

“It is not needful, Ishmael; I have not the least doubt of 
its perfect truth. It is not of that I am thinking; but — of my 
wife. How will she receive me? One thing is certain, that 
having deeply injured her, I must go to her and acknowledge 
the wrong and ask her forgiveness. But, oh, Ishmael, what 
atonement will that be for years of cruel injustice and aban- 
donment? Hone, none! Ho, I feel that I can make her no 
atonement,” said Mr. Brudenell bitterly. 

“Ho, sir; you can make her no atonement, but — ^you can 
make her happy. And that is ^all she will need,” said Ishmael 
gravely and sweetly. 

“If I thought I could, Ishmael, I would hasten to her at 
once. In any case, however, I must go to her, acknowledge 
the wrong I have done her and ask for pardon. But, ah! how 
will she receive me ? ” 

“ Only go and see for yourself, sir, I implore you,” said Ish- 
mael earnestly. 

“When do you return to Scotland, Ishmael?” 

“When you are ready to accompany me, sir; I am waiting 
only for you,” answered Ishmael, smiling. 

“ Then we will go by the early express train to-morrow morn- 
ing,” said Mr. Brudenell. 

“ Very well, sir; I shall be ready,” smiled Ishmael. 

Mr. Brudenell rang for tea. And when it was set on the table 
he ordered the waiter to call him at five o’clock the next morn- 
ing, to have his bill ready, and get a fly to the door to take 
them to the Great Horthern Kailroad Station in time to meet 
the six o’clock express train for Edinboro’. 

After tea the two gentlemen remained conversing some little 
^ime longer, and then retired to their bed-chamber, where, be- 


466 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

ing without the help and hindrance of a valet, they packed 
their own portmanteaus. And then they went to bed early in 
order to secure a long and good night’s rest, preparatory to 
their proposed journey of the next morning. 


CHAPTER LII. 

THE MEETING OF THE SEVERED PAIR. 

For she is wise, if I can judge of her; 

And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true; 

And true she is as she hath proved herself; 

And therefore like herself, wise, fair, and true 

She shall be placed within my constant soul. 

— Shakspeare, 

Ishmael and Mr. Brudenell arose before the waiter called 
them. They dressed quickly, rang, and ordered breakfast, and 
had time to eat it leisurely before the hour at which the cab was 
ordered to take them to the railway station. They caught the 
six o’clock express on the point of starting, and had just settled 
themselves comfortably in a first-class carriage when the train 
moved. 

Thero is a difference in the time kept even by express trains. 
This one seemed to be the fastest among the fast, since it 
steamed out of the London station at six in the morning and 
steamed into the Edinboro’ station at four in the afternoon. 

Ishmael called a cab for himself and fellow-traveler. And 
when they had taken their seats in it, he gave the order, “ To 
Magnider’s Hotel.” And the cab started. 

I think, sir,” said the young man to the elder, as we are in 
such good time, we had better go to my rooms at Magruder’s 
and renovate our toilets before driving out to Cameron Court 
and presenting ourselves to Lady Hurstmonceux.” 

“Yes, yes, certainly, Ishmael; for really I think after that 
dusty, smoky, cindery day’s journey we should be all the better 
for soap and water and clean clothes. I don’t know how I look, 
my dear fellow, but, not to fiatter you, you present the appear- 
ance of a very interesting master chimney-sweep ! ” replied Mr. 
Brudenell. 

Ishmael laughed. 

Ah, yes ; Herman Brudenell jested on the same principle that 
people are said to jest on their way to execution. How, when 


THE MEETING OF THE SEVERED PAIR. 467 


lie was so near Cameron Court and the Countess of Hurstmon- 
ceux, how ill at ease he had become; how he dreaded, yet de- 
sired, the interview that was to decide his fate. 

The distance between the railway station and Magruder’s 
Hotel was so short that it was passed over in a few minutes. 
Ishmael paid and dismissed the cab, and the two gentlemen went 
in. Ishmael’s rooms in that house had never been given up; 
they had been kept for the use of his party, on their journey- 
ings through the city. He conducted Mr. Brudenell to these 
rooms, and then ordered luncheon as soon as it could be served, 
and a fly in haK an hour. Twenty minutes they gave to that 

renovation ” of the toilet advised by Ishmael, ten minutes to 
a simple luncheon of cold meat and bread, and then they entered 
the fly. 

Ishmael gave the order, “ To Cameron Court.” 

As they moved on Mr. Brudenell said: 

“ There are several points upon which I would like to con- 
sult you, before presenting myself to the countess.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Ishmael, looking up with a smile full of ear- 
nest encouragement. 

‘‘But, like all procrastinating natures, I have deferred the 
task until the last moment.” 

“ There has been no better opportunity than the present, sir.” 

“ That is true. Well, Ishmael, the first doubt that troubles 
me is this : That I should not, perhaps, intrude upon the count- 
ess, without first writing and apprising her of my intended 
visit. My appearance will be unexpected, startling, even em- 
barrassing to her.” 

“Ho, sir, no; trust me it will not. If I have read that gen- 
tle lady’s heart aright, she has been always hoping to see you; 
and, with the expectation that is born of hope, she has been 
always looking for you. Ho strange, unnatural appearance will 
you seem to Lady Hurstmonceux, believe me,* sir. And, more- 
over, she has reason to expect you now. Listen, sir. It was on 
the day after I heard her story of Captain Dugald’s midnight 
visit and the evil it brought her, I begged from her the loan of 
that miniature which I showed you. And I do think she 
half suspected the use that I was about to put it to. She loaned 
it to me freely, without question and without reserve, and she 
knew at the time that I was going directly to your presence; 
and finally, on the day before yesterday, when writing to Judge 
Merlin, I mentioned my hope that you would accompany me 


468 self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

to Edinboro’. So you see, sir, Lady Hurstmonceux is not en- 
tirely unprepared to receive you.” 

“ Ah, but how will she receive me, Ishmael ? And how, in- 
deed, shall I present myself to her ? ” 

“ She will welcome you with joy, sir; believe it. But you need 
not take her by surprise, sir, even supposing that she does not 
expect you. Indeed, in no event would it be well that you should 
risk doing so. When we reach Cameron Court you can remain 
in the fly, while I go in, and to her ladyship alone announce 
your arrival.” 

“ Thank you, Ishmael. Your plan is a good one and I will 
adopt it. And now another thing, my dear boy. Ishmael, you 
have always refused to be publicly acknowledged as my 
son ” 

‘^You know why, sir; I will not have unmerited reproach 
thrown upon my sainted mother’s memory. She was a martyr 
to your mistake ; it must never be supposed that she was a vic- 
tim to her own weakness,” 

“ Enough, Ishmael, enough ! I will not urge the point, al- 
though Heaven only knows how great is the sacrifice I make 
in resigning the hope that you would take my name and inherit 
what is left of the family estates. But, there, Ishmael, I will 
say no more upon that point. You will continue to bear your 
mother’s name — the name that you have already made famous, 
and that, I feel sure, you will make illustrious. So no more 
of that. But what I wished particularly to consult you about 
is the propriety of confiding to the countess the secret of our 
relationship. Ishmael, it shall be just as you please.” 

Then, sir, tell her all. Have no secrets from the countess, 
she merits all your confidence; but tell her the circumstances 
under which you married my dear mother, that Hora Worth 
may be held blameless by her forever,” said Ishmael solemnly. 

It was strange to hear this middle-aged gentleman seeking 
counsel from this young man; but so it was that all who were 
brought within the circle of Ishmael’s influence consulted him 
as an early Christian might have consulted a young St. John. 
Ishmael had not the experience that only age can bring; but 
he had that clear, strong, moral and intellectual insight which, 
only purity of heart and life can give, and hence his counsels 
were always wise and good. 

It was six o’clock when the carriage reached Cameron Court. 
When the carriage drew up before the principal entrance Ish- 


THE MEETING OF THE SEVERED PAIR. 469 

mael observed that Mr. Brudenell had become very much agi- 
tated. 

“ Compose yourself, dear sir; compose yourself with the re- 
flection that it is only a loving woman you are about to meet ; 
a woman who loves you constantly and will welcome you with 
delight. Remain here until I go in and announce your visit; 
then I will return for you,” he said, pressing Mr. Brudenell’s 
hand as he left the carriage. 

The professor opened the door for Mr. Worth. There was no 
regular porter at Cameron Court, but Dr. James Morris was 
acting in that capacity. 

“ All well, professor ? ” 

‘^All well, sir. The judge and Lady Vincent have gone out 
for an airing in the close carriage. We expect them back to 
dinner, which will be served presently. You are just in time, 
sir.” 

Ishmael was for once glad to hear that the judge and his 
daughter were absent and that the countess was alone. But 
then, suddenly he reflected that this latter supposition was 
not so certain, and he anxiously inquired: 

“ Is the countess at home, professor ? ” 

‘‘Yes, sir; her ladyship is in the library, reading.” 

“Alone?” 

“ Quite alone, sir.” 

“ That will do ; I can find her,” said Ishmael, ascending the 
stairs and turning in the direction of the library, which was 
situated on the first floor. 

Berenice, dressed in a rich, buf simply made, black velvet 
robe, with delicate white lace under-sleeves and collar, sat near 
the centre table before the fire, reading. Her head was bent 
over her book, and her rich black ringlets fell forward, half 
shading her beautiful dark face. She raised her eyes when 
Ishmael entered, and seeing who it was, she threw aside her 
book and started up to meet him. 

“Welcome, Mr. Worth; welcome back again,” she said, offer- 
ing her hand. 

Ishmael took that beautiful little brown hand and held it 
within his own as he said : 

“ Thank you. Lady Hurstmonceux. I am really very glad 
to get back. But ” 

“What, Mr. Worth?” 

“ I do not come alone. Lady Hurstmonceux.” 


470 self-eaised; oe, eeom the depths. 

Her countenance suddenly changed. Her voice sank to a 
whisper as she inquired: 

“ Who is with you ? ” 

Dropping his voice to the low tone of hers, Ishmael answered : 

“Mr. Brudenell.’^ 

The countess snatched her hand from his grasp, threw her- 
self into the nearest chair, covered her face with her hands, 
and so remained for several minutes. At last Ishmael ap- 
proached and leaned over her, and, speaking in a subdued and 
gentle voice, said: 

“ This visit is not wholly unexpected. Lady Hurstmonceux ? ” 

“Ho, no, Mr. Worth,” she murmured, without removing the 
shield of her hands. 

“ Hor unwelcome, I hope? ” 

“ Ho, oh, no ! ” she said, dropping her hands now and looking 
up, pale, and faintly smiling. 

“You will see him then?” said Ishmael, speaking, as he had 
spoken throughout the interview, in a low, gentle tone. 

“Presently. Give me a little time. Oh, I have waited for 
him so long, Ishmael,” she said, with an involuntary burst of 
confidence. But then everyone, even the most reserved, con- 
fided in Ishmael Worth. 

“ I have waited for him so long, so long ! ” she repeated. 

“He has come at last, dearest lady; come to devote his life 
to you, if you will accept the offering,” Ishmael murmured, 
bending over her. 

“ Oh, Mr. Worth, I am sure that I owe this happiness to you,” 
the countess exclaimed fervently, clasping his hand and hold- 
ing it while she repeated, “ ^ Blessed are the peace-makers, for 
they shall be called the children of God.’ ” 

Lowly and reverently Ishmael bowed his head at the hearing 
of these words. 

“Where is he, Mr. Worth?” at length breathed Berenice. 

“ In the carriage outside, awaiting your pleasure.” 

“ Bring him to me, then,” she said, pressing his hand warmly 
before she relinquished it. 

Ishmael returned that pressure, and then went out to speak 
to Mr. Brudenell. 

“ Come in, sir. She invites you,” he said. 

Herman Brudenell stepped out of the carriage and entered 
with Ishmael. He threw his eyes around upon the magnifi- 
cence that surrounded him. Was all this really to be his own? 



“ Berenice arose to meet her visitor.” 


—Page 47r 


StlfRaistd 




THE MEETING OF THE SEVERED PAIR. 471 

the gift of that sweet lady’s slighted love? He could scarcely 
believe it. 

Ishmael led him through the halls and upstairs to the library. 

“ She is in there alone,” he whispered. 

Go in with me, Ishmael,” whispered the other. 

But Ishmael shook his head, smiled, opened the door, an- 
nounced, ^^Mr. Brudenell, Lady Hurstmonceux,” shut it and 
retired. 

Herman Brudenell found himself alone in the library with 
his long-neglected wife. She was sitting in the armchair, where 
Ishmael had left her. She arose to meet her visitor; then sud- 
denly turned deadly pale and sunk back in her chair, over- 
come by her emotions, but even in so sinking she stretched her 
hands out to him in welcome, in invitation, in entreaty. 

Slowly and deferentially he approached this woman, so holy 
in her immortal love. And dropping on one knee, beside her 
chair, he bent his head and murmured in a broken voice: 

Berenice, Berenice — can you forgive all these long, long 
years of cruel injustice?” 

Oh, bless you ; bless you, Herman, for coming at last. I am 
so glad to see you ! ” she said, drawing his bowed head to her 
bosom, dropping her face caressingly upon it and bursting into 
tears. A few minutes passed and he was sitting by her side, 
with her hand clasped in his, telling her the story of the sinful 
and sorrowful past, and imploring her forgiveness. 

Would she forgive him? 

Header, Berenice was one of those women whom the wisdom 
of this world can never understand; one of those women who 
love purely and passionately; who love but once and love for- 
ever. She loved Herman Brudenell; and in saying this I an- 
swer all questions. She would not acknowledge that she had 
anything to forgive; she was glad to give him herself and all 
that she possessed; she was glad to make him the absolute mas- 
ter of her person and her fortune. And in giving all she re- 
ceived all, for as she loved she was happy. After some little 
time had elapsed, and they had both recovered from the agita- 
tion of the meeting, the countess looked up at himr'Snd inquired : 

Who is Ishmael Worth? Who is this young man, so stately, 
yet so gracious ? so commanding, yet so meek ? who walks among 
other men as a young king should, but as a young king never 
does. Who is he ? ” 

‘^He is my son,” said Herman Brudenell, proudly but shyly; 


472 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

‘‘my son, the child of that unfortunate marriage contracted 
when I cupposed that you were lost to me; lost to me in every 
way, my Berenice. That marriage of which I have already told 
you. Do you forgive me, for him also, Berenice ? ” 

“ I congratulate you on him, for he is a son to be very proud 
of. I glory in him, for he is now my son also,” said this gener- 
ous woman fervently. 

Herman Brudenell raised her hand and pressed it to his lips. 

“ Oh, Herman, I knew it ! I knew it twenty years ago, when 
I went to the Hill Hut and begged the babe to bring up as my 
own,” she said. 

“You did, Berenice? How divinely good you are.” 

“Good! Why, I only sought my own comfort in the babe. 
You were lost to me for the time, and your child was the best 
consolation I could have found. However, his stern kinswoman 
would not let me have him; would not even let me help him; 
denied that he was yours, and almost turned me out of doors.” 

“ That was so like Hannah.” 

“But now at last he is mine; my gifted son. How I shall 
rejoice in him.” 

“ He is yours, Berenice, as far as the most profound esteem 
and love can make him yours. But Ishmael will never consent 
to be publicly acknowledged by me,” said Herman Brudenell 
sorrowfully. 

“ But why ? ” inquired the countess, in astonishment. 

“For his mother’s sake. Ishmael cherishes the most chiv- 
alric devotion for his angel mother, and I think also for all 
mortal women, for her sake. He bears her name, and is fond 
of it and will ever bear it, that whatever fame he may win in 
this world may be identified with it. He has vowed, with the 
blessing of Heaven, to make the name of Worth illustrious, 
and he will do so.” 

“A chivalric devotion, truly; and how beautiful it is. He 
is already, though so young, a distinguished member of the 
Washington bar, I hear. How did he get his education and his 
profession — that poor boy, whom I remember in his childhood 
as tramping the country with the old odd-job man — that very 
‘professor’ who attends him as his servant now? You found 
him and educated him at last, I suppose, Herman ? ” 

A fiery flush arose to Mr. Brudenell’s brow, displacing its 
habitual paleness. 

“Ho, Berenice, no! Hot to me, not to any human being 


THE MEETING OF THE SEVEEED PAIR. 473 

does Ishmael owe education or profession; but to God and to 
himself alone. ISTever was a boy born in this world under more 
adverse circumstances. His birth, in its utter destitution, re- 
minds me (I speak it with the deepest reverence) of that other 
birth in the manger of Bethlehem. His infancy was a struggle 
for the very breath of life; his childhood for bread; his youth 
for education; and nobly, nobly has he sustained this struggle 
and gloriously has he succeeded. We are yet in our prime, my 
dear Berenice, and I feel sure that, if we live out the three- 
score years and ten allotted as the term of human life, we shall 
see Ishmael at the zenith of human greatness.” 

So carried away had Mr. Brudenell been in making this 
tribute to Ishmael that he had forgotten to explain the circum- 
stances that would have exonerated him from the suspicion of 
having culpably neglected his child. Berenice brought him 
back to his recollection by saying: 

But I am sure you must have made some provision for this 
boy ; how was it then that he never derived any benefit from it ? 
How was it that he was left from the hour of his birth to suffer 
the cruelest privations, until the age of seven years, when he 
began to support himself, and to help support his aunt ! ” 

“You are right, Berenice; I made a provision for him; but 
I left the country, and he never had the good of it. I will ex- 
plain how that was by and by; but I believe the loss of it was 
providential. I believe it was intended from the first that Ish- 
mael should ‘ owe no man anything,’ for life, or bread, or edu- 
cation, or profession; but all to God and God’s blessing on his 
own efforts. He is self-made. I know no other man in history 
to whom the term can be so perfectly well applied.” 

“ Will you tell me all you know of his early struggles? I am 
so interested in this stately son of yours,” said Berenice, who, 
while admiring Ishmael herself, saw also that he was the theme 
above all others that Mr. Brudenell loved to dwell upon. 

Herman Brudenell told the story of Ishmael’s heroic young 
life, as he had gathered it from many sources. And Berenice 
listened in admiration, in wonder, and sometimes in tears. 
And yet it was only the plain story of a poor boy who struggled 
up out of the depths of poverty, shame, and ignorance, to com- 
petence, honor, and distinction; a story that may be repeated 
again in the person of the obscurest boy that reads these 
lines. 

After a little while, given to meditation on what she had 


474 SELF-RAISED ; OR, FROM THE DEPTHS. 

heard, Berenice, with her hand still clasped in that of Herman 
Brudenell, looked up at him and said: 

‘‘Your mother and sisters?” 

Slowly and sadly Mr. Brudenell shook his head: 

“ Ah, Berenice ! I shall have to tell you now of a family self- 
marred, as a set-off to the boy self-made.” 

And then he told the grievous story of the decadence of the 
Brudenell ladies, not, of course, forgetting the mad marriage 
of Eleanor Brudenell with the profligate Captain Dugald. 

While Bernice was still wondering over these family mis- 
takes and misfortunes, a footman opened the door and said : 

“My lady, dinner is served.” 

“ Have Judge Merlin and Lady Vincent returned from their 
drive ? ” inquired the countess. 

“ Yes, my lady; the judge and her ladyship are in the drawing 
room with Mr. Worth.” 

“ Mr. Brudenell, will you give me your arm ? ” said the 
countess, rising, with a smile. 

Herman Brudenell bowed and complied. And they left the 
library and passed on to the little drawing room. As they en- 
tered they saw Judge Merlin, Ishmael, and Claudia standing, 
grouped in conversation, near the fire. 

The situation of this long-severed and suddenly reunited 
pair was certainly rather embarassing, especially to the lady; 
and to almost any other one it would have been overwhelming. 
But Berenice was a refined, cultivated, and dignified woman 
of society; such a woman never loses her self-possession; she is 
always mistress of the situation. Berenice was so now. But 
for the bright light in her usually pensive dark eyes, and the 
rosy flush on her habitually pale cheeks, there was no difference 
in her aspect, as, with her hand lightly resting on Mr. Bru- 
denell’s arm, she advanced towards the group. 

Claudia turned around, not altogether in surprise, for Ish- 
mael had thoughtfully prepared them all for this new addi- 
tion to the family circle. 

“ Lady Vincent, I believe you have already met my husband, 
Mr. Brudenell,” said the countess, gravely presenting him to 
her guest. And the form of her words purposely revealed the 
reconciliation that had just been sealed. 

“ Oh, yes, I know Mr. Brudenell well, and I am very glad to 
see him again,” said Claudia, offering her hand. 

“I had the honor of passing some weeks in Lady Vincent’s 


HOME AGAIH. 


475 


company at lier father’s house in Washington,” said Mr. Bru- 
denell, gravely bowing. He next turned and shook hands with 
Judge Merlin. But the old man retained his hand, and took also 
that of the countess, and as the tears sprang to his aged eyes, 
he said: 

Dear Brudenell, and dearest lady, I sympathize with you in 
this reunion with all my heart. May you be very happy; God 
bless you ! ” and pressing both their hands, he relinquished 
them. 

Mr. Brudenell and the countess simultaneously bowed in 
silent acknowledgment of this benediction. 

Claudia involuntarily looked up to Ishmael’s face; their eyes 
met — ^hers betraying the yearning anguish of a famishing 
heart, and his the most earnest sympathy, the most reverential 
compassion. Why did Claudia look at him so? Ah! because 
she could not help it. What was she dreaming of? Perhaps 
of another possible reunion, that should compensate her for all 
the woeful past, and bless her in all the happy future. 

A moment more, and the folding doors connecting the draw- 
ing room with the dining room were thrown open. 

‘‘Mr. Brudenell, will you take Lady Vincent in to dinner?” 
said the countess, with a smile, as she herself gave her hand to 
Ishmael. 

And thus they passed into the dining room. 

But for the sadness of one mourning spirit present, the dinner 
was a pleasant one. And the reunion in the drawing room that 
evening was calmly happy. 

CHAPTER Un. 

HOME AGAIN. 

Home again! home again! 

From a foreign shore! 

And oh, it fills my heart with joy 
To greet my friends once more. 

Mnsic sweet! mnsic soft! 

Lingers round the place; 

And oh, I feel the childhood’s charm, 

That time cannot efface! 

—M. 8. Pike. 

It had been decided in consultation between Judge Merlin 
and Ishmael that, under existing circumstances, it would be 


476 self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

proper for their party to shorten their visit to Cameron Court, 
and leave the recently reconciled pair to the enjoyment of their 
own exclusive company. 

And accordingly, while they were all seated at luncheon 
the next day, Wednesday, Judge Merlin announced their de- 
parture for Thursday morning. 

This announcement was met by a storm of hospitable ex- 
postulation. Both the countess and Mr. Brudenell strongly 
objected to the early departure of their visitors, and urged their 
prolonged stay. 

But, to all this friendly solicitation, the judge replied : 

“My dear countess, painful as it will be for us all to leave 
Cameron Court, there are imperative reasons for our doing so* 
It is not only that we have engaged our passages on the steamer 
that sails on the 15th of this month of February, but that un- 
less we really do sail on that day, we shall not have sufficient 
time to cross the ocean and get into port before the stormy 
month of March sets in.” 

“ But this is only Wednesday. The ‘ Columbus ’ does not 
sail until Saturday after next. You might stay with us a week 
longer, and then have abundant time to run down to Liver- 
pool and get comfortably embarked,” said the countess. 

“ Thank you, dear lady ; but the truth is, I wish to show my 
daughter London before we sail,” replied the judge. 

“ The truth is,” said the countess, smiling, “ that you are 
all weary of Cameron Court. Well, so I will no longer oppose 
your departure. Very early in life I learned the twofold duty 
of hospitality : ' to greet the coming, speed the parting guest.’ ” 

“Lady Hurstmonceux, we are not weary of Cameron Court. 
On the contrary we are attached to it, warmly attached to it; 
we have been happier here than we could have been anywhere 
else, while under our adverse circumstances. And we shall take 
leave of you, madam, with the deepest regret — regret only to be 
softened by the hope of seeing you some time in America,” said 
the judge gravely. 

The countess bowed and smiled, but did not in any other 
manner reply. 

“ Oh, Berenice; dear Berenice! You will come out to see us, 
some time, will you not?” urged Claudia. 

The countess looked toward her husband with that proud, 
fond deference which loving wives glory in bestowing, and she 
said: 


HOME AGAIN. 


477 

'^When Mr. Brudenell visits his mother and sisters I shall 
of course accompany him, and we shall spend a portion of our 
tipae at Tanglewood, if you will permit us.” 

‘‘Berenice, Berenice; what words you use! We know how 
happy we should be to see you,” said Claudia. 

« “ And how honored,” said the judge. 

Lady Hurstmonceux smiled on Claudia and bowed to the 
judge. And then the circle arose from the luncheon table 
and dispersed. 

That day Ishmael wrote to Bee, announcing the speedy return 
of himself and his party, and Judge Merlin wrote to his mana- 
ger, Eeuben Gray, to have the house at Tanglewood prepared for 
the reception of himself and daughter on or before the 1st of 
March. 

Early on Thursday morning ©ur party took a most affection- 
ate leave of their friends at Cameron Court, and set out in one 
of the countess’ carriages for the railway station at Edinboro’, 
which they reached in time to catch the ten o’clock express for 
London. 

A twelve hours’ flight southward brought them into that city. 
It was ten o’clock, therefore, when they ran into the King’s 
Cross Station. There they took a fly to Morley’s Hotel, in the 
Strand, where they arrived about eleven o’clock. They en- 
gaged a suite of apartments, and settled themselves there for a 
week. A very brief epitome must describe their life in London 
during that short period. 

It was Thursday night when they arrived. 

On Friday morning they visited the Tower, taking the whole 
day for the study of that ancient fortress and its awful tra- 
ditions; and in the evening they went to Drury Lane, to see 
Kean in “Macbeth.” 

On Saturday morning they went to Westminster Abbey, and 
in the evening to Covent Garden. 

On Sunday they attended divine service at St. Paul’s, morn- 
ing and afternoon, and they spent the evening at home. 

On Monday they visited the two Houses of Parliament, and 
in the evening they went to the Polytechnic. 

On Tuesday they went over the old prison of Newgate, and 
in the evening they heard a celebrated philanthropist lecture 
at Exeter Hall. 

On Wednesday they went down to Windsor and went over 
Windsor Castle, park, and forest, and they spent the evening 


478 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

looking over the illustrated guidebooks that described thesw 
places. 

On Thursday morning they returned to London, and em- 
ployed the day in shopping and other preparations for their 
homeward voyage; and Ishmael, among his more important 
purchases, did not forget the dolls for little Molly, nor the box 
of miniature carpenter’s tools for Johnny. They passed this 
last evening of their stay quietly at home. 

On Friday morning they left London for Liverpool, where 
they arrived at nightfall. They put up at the Adelphi,” the 
hotel favored by all American travelers, and where they found 
all their national tastes gratified. 

Early on Saturday morning they embarked on their home- 
ward-bound steamer and sailed from England. They were 
blessed with one of the most favorable voyages on record; the 
wind was fair, the sky was blue, and the sea smooth from the be- 
ginning to the end of their voyage, and on the evening of the 
tenth day out they ran safely into the harbor of New York. 
This was Thursday, the 25th of February. 

The evening mail for the South had not yet gone ; and, while 
waiting in the office of the Custom House, Islnnael wrote to Bee, 
announcing the safe arrival of his party; and the judge dashed 
off a few lines to Reuben Gray, warning him to have all things, 
ready to receive the returning voyagers. 

Only one night they rested in the city, and then on Friday 
morning they left FTew York, taking the shortest route to Tan- 
glewood — ^namely, by railroad as far as Baltimore, and then by 
steamboat to Shelton, on the Potomac. 

Our whole party landed at Shelton on Saturday evening. 
The judge dispatched a messenger on horseback from the little 
hotel to Tanglewood, to order Reuben Gray to have the fires 
kindled and supper ready against their arrival, and then, after 
some little search, — for the hamlet boasted few hackney coaches, 
— they found a carriage for the judge and his companions and 
a wagon for the servants and the luggage. It was nine o’clock 
when they reached Tanglewood. 

Hannah and Reuben were standing out under the starlight, 
listening for the sound of wheels, and they ran forward to greet 
them as they alighted from the carriage. 

“ Oh, welcome ; welcome home, sir ! Thank God, I receive 
you safe again ! ” exclaimed Reuben Gray, as he grasped the 
judge’s extended hand and wept for joy. 


HOME AGAIN. 


479 


** Thfink you, thank you. Gray. I’m happy to be home once 
more.’' 

'‘Oh, my boy; my boy I Do I see you again? Do P really 
bc you again ? Thank Heaven ; oh, thank Heaven ! ” cried 
Hannah, bursting into a passion of tears, as she threw her arms 
around Ishmael’s neck and was pressed to his affectionate 
heart. 

“ God bless you, dear Aunt Hannah ! I am very glad to come 
to you again? How are the little ones?” 

“ Oh, as well as possible, dear.” 

“ Speak to Lady Vincent,” whispered Ishmael. 

“Madam, I am very glad to see you home once more, but 
sorry to see you in such deep mourning,” said Hannah respect- 
fully. 

Judge Merlin then hurried the whole party out of the biting 
winter air into the house. Here they found all ready for them ; 
the fires kindled, the rooms warmed, the tables set in the com- 
fortable parlor, and the supper ready to be dished. They took 
time only to make a very slight toilet in their well-warmed cham- 
bers, and then they went down to supper. The judge insisted 
that Hannah and Reuben should join them on this occasion and 
remain their guests for the evening. And what a happy evening 
it was. After all their weary wanderings, perils and sorrows in 
foreign lands, how delightful to be at home once more in their 
dear native country, gathered together under one beloved roof, 
and lovingly served by their own affectionate domestics. Ah! 
one must lose all these blessings for a while, in order to truly 
to enjoy them. 

How earnest was the thanksgiving in the grace uttered by 
the judge as they all gathered around the supper table! How 
earnest was the amen silently responded by each heart ! 

After supper they all went into the well warmed and lighted 
crimson drawing room. And Claudia sat down before her grand 
piano, and tried its keys. From long disuse it was somewhat 
out of tune, certainly; but her fingers evoked from those keys 
a beautiful prelude, and her voice rose in that simple, but soul- 
stirring little ballad, “ Home Again.” 

As she sang Ishmael came up behind her, turned the leaves of 
her music book, and accompanied her in his rich bass voice. 
At the end of that one song she arose and closed her piano. 

“ Thank you, my dear,” said the judge, drawing his daughter 
to him and kissing her cheek. “ Your song was very appropri- 


480 self-raised; or, from the depths 

ate; there is not one here who could not enter into its senfii- 
ment with all his heart.” 

Slowly and sadly Claudia bowed her head; and then she 
passed on to one of the side tables, took up a lighted bedroom 
candle, bade them all good-night and retired. 

Keuben and Hannah, who on this occasion, at Judge Merlin’s 
request, had remained in the drawing room, now arose and took 
a respectful leave. And soon after this, Ishmael and the judge 
separated and retired to their respective chambers. 

Ishmael was shown into that one which he had occupied 
during that eventful first sojourn at Tanglewood. How full of 
the most interesting associations, the most tender memories, 
that chamber was. There was the bed upon which he had lain 
for weeks, a mangled sufferer for Claudia’s sake. There was 
the very same armchair she had sat in hour after hour by his 
side, beguiling the tedious days of convalescence by talking with 
him, reading to him, or singing and playing to him on her 
guitar. Sigh after sigh burst from Ishmael’s bosom as he re- 
membered these times. He went to bed, but could not sleep ; he 
lay awake, meditating and praying. 

While Ishmael in his lonely chamber prayed, another scene 
was going on in another part of the house. 

Old Katie was holding a reception in the kitchen. All the 
house servants, all the field laborers, and all the neighboring 
negroes — bond and free, male and female — ^were assembled at 
Tanglewood that night to welcome Katie and her companions 
home and hear their wondrous adventures in foreign lands. 

Katie, in the most gorgeous dress of Scotch plaid, that dis- 
played the most brilliant tints of scarlet, blue and yellow, pur- 
ple, orange, and green, with a snow-white turban on her head 
and a snow-white kerchief around her neck, with broad gold 
ear-rings in her ears and thick gold finger-rings on her fingers — 
sat in the seat of honor, the chip-bottom armchair, and, for the 
benefit of the natives, delivered a lecture on the manners and 
customs of foreign nations, illustrated by her own experiences 
among them. 

How, if Katie had only related the plain facts of her life 
in Scotland and in the West India Islands, they had been 
sufficiently interesting to her simple hearers, but Katie exag- 
gerated her adventures, wrongs, and sufferings beyond all hope 
of pardon. 

I seen the Queen,” she said. She rode about in a silver 


home again. 481 

coach drawed by a hundred milk-white bosses, wid a golden 
crown on her head a yard and a half high, and more niggers 
to wait on her, chillun, dan you could shake sticks at.” 

The least of her fictions was this : 

“ Chillun, I was fust kilt dead, den buried alike, and kept 
so till wanted; den fotch to life ag’in, and sold to pirates, and 
took off to de Stingy Isles, and sold ag’in into slabery; arter 
which Marster Ishmael Worf drapped right down out’n de 
clear sky inter de middle ob de street, and if you don’t beliebe it 
jes go ax Marse Ishmael hisse’f, as nebber told a falsehood in his 
life.” 

“ And so he brought you away, Katie ? ” inquired Reuben’s 
Sam, who was, of course, present. 

“Well, I jes reckon he did some! He made dem Stingy 
Island barbariums stan’ roun’ now, I tell you, chillun.” 

Katie went on with her lecture. Her version of the fate of 
Lord Vincent, Mrs. Dugald, and Frisbie was rather a free one. 

“ I walked myse’f right ’traight up to de Queen soon as ebber 
I totched English ground, and told her all about dem gran’ 
willians, and de Queen ordered de execution ob de whole lot. 
Which dey was all hung up by de neck till dey was dead de 
berry next mornin’,” she said. 

“ What, all hung so quick, Katie ! ” exclaimed Sam, in as- 
tonishment. 

“All hung; ebery single one ob dem. My lordship and de 
shamwally and de whited saltpeter. All hung up by de neck 
till dey was dead, in de middle ob de street, right in de sight 
ob ebberybody going along, and serbe ’em right and hopes it 
did ’em good,” said Katie emphatically. 

“ That was quick work, though,” said Sam dubiously. 

“ Quick work ? Dey deserbed it quick, and quicker dan dat. 
Hi, boy, what you talkin’ ’bout? Didn’t dey kill me dead, and 
bury me alike, and sell me inter slabery? You ’spect how de 
Queen gwine let sich going on go on while she’s de mis’tess ob 
England ? Ho, ’deed ; not arter she see all dey made me suffer,” 
exploded Katie. 

“ ’Deed, Aunt Katie, you did see heep o’ trouble, didn’t you ? ” 
said one of her amazed hearers. 

“Yes; but, you see. Aunt Katie wanted to see de worl’I 
’Member how she used to tell us how she wasn’t a tree as couldn’t 
be transplanted, and how she was a likin’ soul, and a p’og’es- 
eive sperrit, and how she wanted to see somefin’ ob dis worl’ 


482 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

she libbed in afore she parted hence and heed no more,” said 
another. 

‘^Well, I reckon you has seed ’nough oh de worF now. 
Hasn’t you. Aunt Katie ? ” inquired a third. 

“ Well, I jes reckon I has, chillun. I nebber wants to see no 
more ob dis worl’ long as ebber I libs on dis yeth, dere. I be 
satisfied to settle down here at Tanglewood for de ’mainder ob 
my mortal days, and thank my ’Vine Marster down on my 
knees as I has got here safe,” said Katie. 

“If I was you. Aunt Katie, I’d publish my travels,” said 
Sam. 

“ I gwine to, honey, ’deed is I. I gwine to publish um good, 
too. I gwine to get my extinguish friend, de professor dere, 
to write um all down fur me ; and I gwine to publish um good. 
And now, Sam, chile, as de kettle is b’iling, I wish you jes’ make 
de hot punch, ’cause I’se dead tired, and arter I drinks it I 
wants to go to bed.” 

And when the punch was made and served around, this cir- 
cle also separated for the night. 

The next morning, before breakfast, Ishmael walked through 
the forest to Woodside to see the little children of whom he was 
so fond. They were already up and waiting fo*r him at the 
gate. On seeing him they rushed out to meet him with ac- 
clamations of joy, and laid hold of his overcoat and began to 
pull him. towards the house. 

Ishmael smiled on them, and talked to them, and would have 
taken them up in his arms, but that his arms were already full, 
for under one was Molly’s family of dolls and under the other 
Johnny’s box of tools. Smilingly he suffered them to pull him 
into the house, and push him into the arm-chair, and climb up 
on his knees and seize and search his parcels. 

Molly knew her parcel by the feet of the dolls protruding 
through the end of the paper, and she quickly laid hands on 
it, sat down flat on the floor and tore it to pieces, revealing to 
her delighted eyes: 

“Dolls, and more dolls, and so many dolls!” as she ecstati- 
cally expressed it. Then in the midst of her bliss, she suddenly 
remembered her benefactor, dropped all her treasures, jumped 
into his lap, threw her arms around his neck, and said : 

“ Oh, Cousin Ishmael, what pretty dolls I I will pray to the 
Lord to give you a great many things for giving me these,” 

Ishmael kissed her very gravely and said; 


HOME AGAIN. 


483 

Pray to the Lord to give me wisdom, Molly, for that is the 
best of all gifts, and I would rather a child should ask it for 
me than a bishop should.” 

And he sat Molly down again to enjoy her treasures. 

Meanwhile Johnny had to'rn open his box of miniature car- 
penter’s tools and run out to try their edges on the fences and 
out-houses; and all without one word of thanks to the donor. 
Poys, you know, are about as grateful as pigs, who devour the 
acorns without ever once looking up to see whence they come. 

At the moment that Ishmael sat Molly down upon the floor, 
Hannah came in from a back room, where she had been at work. 

On seeing the dolls she lifted both her hands and cried out: 

Oh, Ishmael, Ishmael, what extravagance ! ” 

Mot at all, aunt. Look at little Molly! See how much hap- 
piness has been purchased at a trifling outlay, and talk no more 
of extravagance,” said Ishmael, rising and taking his hat. 

Where are you going now? You have not been here a min- 
ute,” said Hannah. 

Pardon me, I have been here half an hour, and now I must 
go back to Tanglewood, because they will wait breakfast for 
me there.” 

‘^Well, I declare!” wrathfully began Hannah, but Ishmael 
gently interrupted her : 

I have bought a fine Scotch tartan shawl for you. Aunt 
Hannah, and a heavy shepherd’s maud for Uncle Reuben. They 
are such articles as you cannot purchase in this country. I will 
send them to you by one of the servants. I would have brought 
them myself, only you see my arms were full.” 

“ Well, I should think so. Thank you, Ishmael ! Thank you 
very much indeed. But when are you coming here to stop a 
bit?” 

“ Just as soon as I can, Aunt Hannah. This morning I 
must go to The Beacon. You may well suppose how anxious 
I am to be there.” 

Humph ! I thought now Mrs. Lord Vincent was a widder, 
all that was over.” 

Aunt Hannah, what do you take me for ? ” exclaimed the 
young man, in sorrowful astonishment. 

“ Well, Ishmael, I didn’t mean to insult you, so you needn’t 
bite my head off,” snapped Mrs. Gray. 

Good-by, Aunt Hannah,” said Ishmael, stooping and kissing 
her cheek. 


484 self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

He hurried away and walked briskly through the woods and 
reached the house in good time for breakfast; and a happy 
breakfast it was, but for one sad face there. The old man was 
so delighted to be home again, under his own forest-shaded roof, 
seated at his own table, attended by his own affectionate serv- 
ants, that it seemed as though the years had rolled back in their 
course and restored to him ^11 the freshness of his youth. 

After breakfast Ishmael arose and announced his departure 
for The Beacon, and requested of the judge the loan of two 
saddle horses. 

“ Ishmael, you have refused all compensation beyond your 
traveling expenses for your services; and I know, indeed, they 
were of a nature that money could not repay. Yet I do wish to 
make you some more substantial acknowledgment than empty 
words of my indebtedness to you. How there is my Arabian 
courser, Mahomet. He is a gift worthy of even your acceptance, 
Ishmael. He has not his equal in America. I refused three 
thousand dollars for him before I went to Europe. I will not 
lend him to you, Ishmael ! I will beg your acceptance of him-— 
there, now donT refuse! I shall never use him again, and 
Claudia cannot, for he is not a lady’s horse, you know.” 

“ I shall never ride again,” here put in Claudia, in a sorrow- 
ful voice. 

Ishmael started and turned towards her; but she had arisen 
from the table and withdrawn to the window-seat. 

Judge Merlin continued to press his gift upon the young man. 
But though Ishmael had almost a passion for fine horses, he 
hesitated to accept this munificent present until he saw that 
his refusal would give the judge great pain. Then, with sin- 
cere expressions of gratitude, he frankly accepted it. 

The judge rang a bell and ordered Mahomet saddled and 
brought around for Mr. Worth, and a groom’s horse for his serv- 
ant. 

Ishmael put on his riding-coat and took his hat and gloves. 
When the horses were announced, Ishmael went and shook hands 
with his host. 

“ God bless you, Ishmael ; God bless you, my dear boy, for all 
that you have done for me and for mine! Yea, God bless you, 
and speed the time when you shall be nearer to me than at 
present,” said the judge, pressing both Ishmael’s hands before 
he dropped them. 

Ishmael then crossed the room to take leave of Claudia. She 


WHICH IS THE BRIDE ? 


485 


was sitting in tlie armcliair, within the recess of the bay win- 
dow; her elbow rested on a little stand at her side, and her head 
was bowed upon her hand; this was her usual attitude now. 

“Farewell, Lady Vincent,” said Ishmael, in a grave, sweet 
voice, as he stood before her. She raised her head and looked at 
him. Oh, what a world of grief, despair, and passionate remorse 
was expressed in those large, dark, tearless eyes! 

“Farewell, Lady Vincent,” said Ishmael, deferentially tak- 
ing her hand. 

Her fingers closed spasmodically upon his, as though she 
would have held him to her side forever. 

“ Oh, must it be indeed farewell, Ishmael ? ” she breathed in 
a voice expiring with anguish. 

“Farewell,” he repeated gravely, kindly, reverentially; bow- 
ing low over the throbbing hand he held; and then he turned 
and softly left the room. 

“It is his sense of honor. Oh, it is his chivalric, nay, his 
fanatical sense of honor that is ruining us! Unless Bee has 
the good taste and modesty to release him voluntarily, he will 
sacrifice me, himself, and her, to the Moloch, Honor,” wailed 
Claudia, as she dropped her head upon her hands in a grief 
too deep for tears. 

Was she right? 


CHAPTER LIV. 

WHICH IS THE BRIDE? 

His horse went on, hoof after hoof, 

Went on and never stopped, 

Till down behind the Mansion roof, 

At once, the red sun dropped. 

What fond and wayward thoughts will slide 
Into a lover’s head! — 

Oh, Heaven! ” to himself he cried. 

If— if she should be dead! ” 

— Wordsworth. 

Ishmael galloped along the road leading to The Beacon, fol- 
lowed at a short distance by the professor, who found some 
difficulty in keeping up with his master. ^ 

Ishmael’s aspect was not altogether that of a happy lover 
going to see his beloved; for his countenance was thoughtful, 
'grave, and sad. How could it be otherwise with him, after the 


486 self-eaised; oe, feom the depths. 

scene he had left? His thoughts, his sympathies, his regrets 
were with Claudia, the earliest friend of his friendless child- 
hood; with Claudia, grand, noble, and beautiful, even in the 
wreck of her happiness; with Claudia, loving now as she had 
never loved before. Yes, his thoughts, his regrets, his sympa- 
thies were with her, but where were his love, his esteem, and 
his admiration ? 

As he rode on the figure of Claudia, in her woe, became lost 
in a shadow that was gradually stealing over his soul — one of 
those mysterious shadows that approaching misfortunes are 
said to cast before them. In vain he tried by reason to dispel 
this gloom. The nearer he approached The Beacon, the deeper 
it settled upon his spirit! 

What could it mean? Was all well at The Beacon? Was all 
well with Bee? 

Beuben Gray, when questioned, had said that he had not 
heard from them in a week. And what might not have hap- 
pened in a week? At that thought a pang like death shot 
through his heart, and he put spurs to his horse and urged 
him forward at his best speed, but with all his haste, the short 
February day was drawing to its close, and the descending 
sun was sinking behind the mansion-house and its group of 
out-buildings when Ishmael rode into the front yard, followed 
closely by his servant. It was but the work of a moment 
to spring from his horse, throw the reins to the professor, bound 
up the steps to the front door and ring the bell. The door was 
opened by Mr. Middleton in person. This was an unprece- 
dented, and ominous circumstance. 

Bee’s father looked very grave as he held out his hand, 
saying : 

How do you do, Ishmael ? I am glad that you have all re- 
turned safely.” 

How do you do, Mr. Middleton ? I hope — I hope that I find 
you all well?” said Ishmael, striving to speak composedly. 

— yes. Come into the library, my young friend; I wish 
to speak with you alone before you see any other membfer of the 
family,” said Mr. Middleton. 

FTearly overwhelmed with his emotions, dreading, he knew not 
what, Ishmael followed Mr. Middleton into the library and 
dropped into the chair that gentleman pushed towards him. 

“ Bee — Bee ! For Heaven’s sake tell me ? Is she well ? ” he 
asked. 



488 


self-raised; or, from the depths. 


Mr. Middleton continued : 

Lady Vincent fell into trouble. She needed the help of a 
man with a strong arm, wise head, and pure heart. You were 
that man, Ishmael. At her first cry for help wafted across the 
Atlantic, you threw up all your professional prospects, left your 
ofiice and your clients to take care of themselves, and flew to 
her relief. It was to your wonderful intelligence, inspired, no 
doubt, by your pure love, that she owed her deliverance from all 
the snares laid for her destruction. You have rescued her and 
brought her safely home. Are you listening, Ishmael ? ” 

“ I am listening, sir,” answered the young man very gravely. 
By this time he had begun to understand the drift of Mr. Mid- 
dleton’s discourse, and had recovered his composure, and his 
look was somewhat stern. 

“Well, then, in a word — Lord Vincent is dead, Claudia is 
free, you have been her constant companion since her widow- 
hood. Mow, then, Ishmael, if in these days of close companion- 
ship with Lady Vincent your love for Claudia Merlin has re- 
vived ” 

“Mr. Middleton, how can you speak to me thus?” inter- 
rupted Ishmael, in a stem voice, and with flashing eyes, and in 
very righteous indignation. The next instant, however, he re- 
covered himself. “ I beg your pardon, sir,” he said sorrow- 
fully. “I should not have spoken so to the father of my be- 
trothed— -to my own father, I might almost say. I beg your 
pardon x^nwiMy.” 

« Conipose yv^nrself, Ishmael, and listen to me. I speak the 
words of truth aid soberness, and you must hear them. I say 
It in these days of n-timate association with Lady Vincent your 
ove^^for Claudia Meilin has revived, you must break with 


“ Mr. Middleton ! ” 

“Gently, Ishmael! If this is so, it cannot be helped, and 
none of us blame you. The human heart should be free. May, 

it will be free. So 

“ But, Mr. Middleton 


"Gently, gently, Ishmael, I beg; hear me out. I know what 

taJk of your plighted 

word, of fidelity, and of honor. But I think, Mmael, that, if 

be more honor in frankij stating 
the case to Bee, and asking for the release that she would su-ely 
give you than there would be in marrying her while you love 


WHICH IS THE BRIDE? 489 

another. You should not offer her a divided love. Bee is 
worthy of a whole heart.” 

‘<Do I not know it?” broke forth Ishmael, in strong emo- 
tion. “Oh, do I not know it? And do I not give her my 
whole, unwavering, undivided heart? Mr. Middleton, look at 
me,” said the young man, fixing his truthful, earnest, eloquent 
eyes upon that gentleman’s face. “ Look at me ! It is true 
that I once cherished a boyish passion for Lady Vincent — un- 
reasoning, ardent, vehement as such boyish passions are apt to 
be. But, sir, her marriage with Lord Vincent killed that pas- 
sion quite. It was dead and buried, without the possibility of 
resurrection. It was impossible for me to love another man’s 
wife. Every honorable principle, every delicate instinct of my 
nature forbade it. On her marriage day my boyish flame 
burned to ashes; and, sir, such ashes as are never rekindled 
again. Never, under any circumstances. It is true that I have 
felt the deepest sympathy for Lady Vincent in her sorrows; 
but not more, sir, than it is my nature to feel for any suffering 
woman; not more, sir, I assure you, than I felt for that poor, 
little middle-aged widow who was my first client; not more, 
scarcely so much, as I felt for Lady Hurstmonceux in her de- 
sertion. Oh, sir, the love that I gave to Bee is not the tran- 
sient passion of a boy, it is the steadfast affection of a man. 
And since the blessed day of our betrothal my heart has known 
no shadow of turning from its fidelity to her. Sir, do you be- 
lieve me ? ” n ■ 1 ^ 

“ I do, I do, Ishmael, and I beg you to fongive me my 

doubts of you.” . t t 

“ For myself, I have nothing to forgivei. But, sir, I hope, i 
trust, that you have not disturbed Bee with these doubts.” 

“Well, Ishmael, you know, I fe\K it my duty gradually to 
prepare her mind for the shock/ that she might have received 
had those old coals of yours be<4n rekindled.” . , o 

“ Then Heaven forgive jQim, Mr. Middleton . Where is she . 

Can I see her now?” / i. u i, 

“ Of course you can/ Ishmael. In any case, you should imve 
seen her once more./ If you had been going to break with her, 
you would have hvad to see her to ask from her own lips your 
release.” 

“Wherre is she— where?” • i 

"“'In the drawing room— waiting, like the good girl that she 
is, to give you your freedom, should you aesire it of her. 


490 


FROM THE DEPTHS. 


say — God forgive you, Mr. Middleton!” said Islimael, 
starting off. 

Suddenly he stopped ; he was very much agitated, and he did 
not wish to break in on Bee in that disturbed state. He poured 
out a large glass of water and drank it off; stood still a minute 
to recover his composure, and then went quietly to the drawing 
room. Very softly he opened the door. 

There she was. Ah, it seemed ages since.he had seen her last. 
And now he stood for a moment looking at her, before he ad- 
vanced into the room. 

She was standing at the west window, apparently looking 
out at the wintry, red sunset. Although it was afternoon, she 
still wore a long, flowing, white merino morning dress, and her 
bright golden brown hair was unwound, hanging loose upon her 
shoulders. The beams of the setting sun, streaming in full 
upon her, illumined the outlines of her beautiful head and 
graceful form. A lovely picture she made as she stood there 
like some fair spirit. 

Ishmael advanced softly towards her, stood behind her. 

Bee; dear, dear Bee ! ” he said, putting his arms around her. 

She turned in a moment, exclaiming : 

Dear Ishmael ; dearest brother ! ” and was caught to his 
bosom. She dropped her head upon his shoulder, and burst into 
a flood of tears. She wept long and convulsively, and he held 
her closely to his heart, and soothed her with loving words. 
It seemed she did not take in the full purport of those words, 
for presently she ceased weeping, gently disengaged herself 
from his embrace, and sat down upon the comer of the sofa, 
with her elbow resting on his arm, and her head leaning upon 
her hand. And then, as he looked at her, Ishmael saw for the 
first time how changed, h^ w sadly changed she was. 

Bee’s face had always bee. fair, clear, and delicate, but now 
it was so white, wan, and sha,-^owy that her sweet blue eyes 
seemed preternaturally large, brig-ht, and hollow. She began 
to jpeak, but with an effort that was T'^^ry perceptible : 

“ Dear Ishmael, dearest and ever deadest brother, I did not 
mean to weep so; it was very foolish; bu^- then you know we 
girls weep for almost anything, or nothing; so you ” 

Her voice sank into silence. 

“ My darling, why should you weep at all ? and why cfo\vou call 
roe brother? whispered Ishroael, sitting down beside her 't,'"'’ 
drawing her towards him. » 


WHICH IS THE BEIDE? 


491 


But again she gently withdrew herself from him, and looking 
into his face with her clear eyes and sweet smile, she said: 

Why ? Because, dear Ishmael, though we shall never meet 
again after to-day— though it would not be right that we should 
' — ^yet I shall always hold you as the dearest among my brothers. 
Oh, did you think; did you think it could be otherwise? Did 
you think this dispensation could turn me against you? Oh, 
no, no, no, Ishmael; it could not. Nothing that you could do 
could turn me against you, because you would do no wrong. 
You have not done wrong now, dear; do not imagine that any 
of us think so. We do not presume to blame you — none of us; 
not my father, not my mother — least of all myself. It was— — ” 

Again her sinking voice dropped into silence. 

“ Bee ; darling, darling Bee, you do not know what you are 
talking about. I love you. Bee; I love you,” said Ishmael ear- 
nestly, again trying to draw her to his heart; but again she 
gently prevented him, as with a wan smile, and in a low voice, 
she answered: 

“I know you do, dear; I never doubted that you did. You 
always loved me as if I were your own little sister. But not 
as you loved her, Ishmael.” 

« Bee ” 

Hush, dear, let me speak while I have strength to do so. She 
was your first love, Ishmael; your first friend, you remember. 
With all her faults — and they are but as the spots upon the sun 
— she is a glorious creature, and worthy of you. I always knew 
that I was not to be compared to her.” 

^^No, Heaven knows that you were not,” breathed Ishmael 
inaudibly, as he watched Bee. 

“ All your friends, Ishmael — all who love you and who are 
interested in your welfare — if they could influence your choice, 
would direct it to her, rather than to me. You are making your 
name illustrious; you will some time attain a high station in 
society. And who is there so worthy to bear your name and 
share your station as that queenly woman ? ” 

Bee, Bee, you almost break my heart. I teU you I love you. 
Bee. I love you ! ” 

“ I know you do, dear ; I have said that you do ; and you are 
distressed about me; but do not be so, dear. Indeed I shall be 
very well; I shall have work to occupy me and duties to inter- 
est me; indeed I shall be happy, Ishmael; indeed I shall; and 
I shall always love you, as a little sister loves her dearest 


492 self-eaised; oe, eeom the depths. 

brother; so take your trothplight back again, dear, and with it 
take my prayers for your happiness,” said Bee, beginning to 
draw the engagement ring from her finger. 

“Bee, Bee, what are you doing? You will not listen to me. 
I love you. Bee ! I love you. Hear me ! There is no woman in 
the world that can rival you for an instant in my heart; no, 
not one; and there has never been one. That boyish passion I 
once cherished for another, and that haunts your imagination 
so fatally, was but a blaze of straw that quickly burned out. 
It was a fever common to boyhood. Few men, arrived at years 
of discretion. Bee, would like to marry their first follies — for 
it is a misnomer to call them first loves. Yes, very few men 
would like to do so, Bee, least of all would I. What I give you. 
Bee, is a constant, steadfast love, a love for time and for eter- 
nity. Oh, my dearest, hear me, and believe me,” he said, speak- 
ing fervently, earnestly, forcibly. 

She had started and cauglit her breath ; and now she was look- 
ing and listening, as though she doubted the evidence of her 
own eyes and ears. 

He had taken her hand and was resetting the ring more firmly 
on the finger, from which, indeed, she had not quite with- 
drawn it. 

“ Do you believe me now, dear Bee ? ” he softly inquired. 

“Believe you? Why, Ishmael, I never doubted your word 
in all my life. But — but I cannot realize it. I cannot bring 
it home to my heart yet. How is it possible it should be true? 
How is it possible you should choose me, when you might marry 
her?” said Bee, with large, wondering eyes. 

“How is it possible, my darling one, that you should not 
know how much more lovely you are than any other girl, or 
woman, I have ever seen — except one.” 

“ Except one, Ishmael ? ” she inquired, with a faint smile. 

“Except the Countess of Hurstmonceux, who is almost as 
good and as beautiful as you. Bee, my darling, are you satis- 
fied now ? ” 

“ Oh, Ishmael, I cannot realize it. I have been schooling my 
heart so long, so long, to resign you.” 

“So long? How long, my dearest?” 

“ Oh, ever since we heard that she was free. And that has 
been — ^let me see — ^why, indeed, it has been but a week. But oh, 
Ishmael, it seems to me that years and years have passed since 
my father told me to prepare for a disappointment.” 


WHICH IS THE BRIDE? 493 

“Heaven pardon him; I scarcely can,” said Ishmael to him- 
seH. 

“ But is it indeed true ? Do you really love me best of all ? 
And can you be satisfied with me, with me?” 

“ ^ Satisfied ’ v^itb you, dearest ? Well, I suppose that is the 
best word after all. Yes, dearest ; yes, perfectly, eternally satis- 
fied with you. Bee,” be said, drawing her to bis heart. And 
this time she did not withdraw herself from his embrace; but, 
with a soft sob of joy, she dropped her head upon his bosom. 

“You believe my love now. Bee?” he stooped and whispered. 

“ Oh, yes, yes, yes, Ishmael ; and I am so happy,” she mur- 
mured. 

“ How then listen to me, dearest, for I have something to say 
to you. Do you remember, love, that day you came to me in 
the arbor? I was sleeping the heavy sleep of inebriation; and 
you wept over me and veiled my humbled head with your own 
dear handkerchief, and glided away as softly as you came. Do 
you remember, dear, that night you sat up at your window, 
watching and waiting to let me in with your own dear hand, 
that none should witness my humiliation ? Bee, apparently that 
was a compassionate sister, trying to save from obloquy an eyr- 
ing brother. But really. Bee, as the truth stands in the spiritual 
world, it is this : A sinner was sleeping upon one of the foulest 
gulfs in the depths of perdition. A single turn in his sleep 
and he would have been eternally lost ; but an angel came from 
Heaven, and with her gentle hand softly aroused him and drew 
him out of danger. Bee, I was that sinner on the brink of 
eternal woe, and you that angel from Heaven who saved him. 
Bee, from that day I knew that God had sent you to be my 
guardian spirit through this world. And when I forget that 
day. Bee, may the Lord forget me. And when I cease to adore 
you for it. Bee, may the Lord cease to love me. But as love of 
Heaven is sure. Bee, so is my love for you. And both are eter- 
nal. Oh, love, bride, wife ; hear me ; believe me ; love me ! ” 

“ Oh, I do, I do, Ishmael, and I am so happy. And the very 
spring of my happiness is in the thought that I content you.” 

“With an infinite content. Bee.” 

“ And now let us go to my dear mother ; she will be' so glad ; 
she loves you so much, you know, Ishmael,” said Bee, gently 
releasing herself — and looking up, her fair face now rosy with 
delicate bloom and the tones of her voice thrilling with sub- 
dued joy. 


494 self-raised; or, from the depths. 

Ishmael arose and gave her his arm, and they passed out cf 
the drawing room and entered the morning room, where Mrs. 
Middleton sat among her younger children. 

“ Mamma,” said Bee, “ we were none of us right ; here is Ish- 
mael to speak for himself.” 

know it, dear; your papa has just been in here, and told 
me all about it. How do you do, Ishmael? Welcome home, 
my son,” said Mrs. Middleton, rising and holding out her arms. 

Ishmael warmly embraced Bee’s mother. 

But by this time the children had gathered around him, 
clamorous for recognition. All children were very fond of 
Ishmael. 

While he was shaking hands with the boys, kissing the little 
girls, and lifting the youngest up in his arms, Mr. Middleton 
came in, and the evening passed happily. 

Ishmael remained one happy week with Bee, and then leav- 
ing her, recovered, blooming, and happy, he returned to Wash- 
ington, where he was affectionately welcomed by the two fair 
and gentle old ladies, who had put his rooms in holiday order 
to receive him. He returned in good time for the opening of 
the spring term of the circuit court, and soon found himself 
surrounded with clients, and the business of his office pros- 
pered greatly. 


CHAPTEK LV. 


CONCLUSION. 

How saidst thou! — Labor: — why his work is pleasure; 

His days are pleasantness, his nights are peace; 

He drinks cf joys that neither cloy, nor cease, 

A well that gushes blessings without measure; 

Yea, and to crown the cup of peace with praise, 

Both God and man approve his works and ways. 

— Martin F. Tupper. 

Early in the spring of the following year a great distinction 
awaited Ishmael Worth. Young as he then was, he had won the 
admiration and confidence of the gi’eatest statesmen and poli- 
ticians of the day. And there were statesmen as well as poli- 
ticians then. “ There were giants in those days.” And from 
among all the profound lawyers and learned judges of the 


CONCLUSION. 


495 

country, young Ishmael Worth was selected by our government 
as their especial ambassador to the Court of France, to settle 
with the French ministry some knotty point of international 
law about which the two countries were in danger of going to 
war. 

Ishmael was to sail in May. His marriage with Bee had been 
deferred upon different pretexts by her family; for not very 
willingly do parents part with such a daughter as Bee, even 
to a husband so well beloved and highly esteemed as Ishmael; 
and Ishmael and Bee had reluctantly, but dutifully, submitted 
to their wishes, but not again would Ishmael cross the Atlantic 
without Bee. So, on the 1st of May they were very quietly 
married in the parish church that the family attended. Judge 
Merlin and his daughter were, of course, invited to be present 
at the ceremony; but both sent excuses, with best wishes for 
the happiness of the young pair. Not yet could Claudia look 
calmly on the marriage of Ishmael and Bee. 

On the 7th of May Ishmael and his bride sailed from New 
York to Havre, for Paris. There he satisfactorily concluded 
the important business upon which he had been sent, and it 
is supposed to have been owing to his wise diplomacy alone, 
under Divine Providence, that a war was averted, and the dis- 
puted question settled upon an amicable and permanent basis. 
Having thus performed his mission, he devoted himself exclu- 
sively to his bride. She was presented at the French court, 
where her beauty, resplendent now with perfect love and joy, 
'made a great sensation, even in that court of beauties. She 
went to some of the most select and exclusive of the ambassa- 
dors’ balls, and everywhere, without seeking or desiring such 
distinction, she became the cynosure of all eyes. When the 
season was over in Paris they made the tour of Europe, seeing 
the best that was to be seen, stopping at all the principal capi- 
tals, and, through our ministers, entering into all the court 
circles; and everywhere the handsome person, courtly address, 
and brilliant intellect of Ishmael, and the beauty, grace, and 
amiability of Bee, inspired admir^ion and respect. They came 
last to England. In London they were the guests of our minis- 
ter. Here also Bee was presented at court, where, as else- 
where, her rare loveliness was the theme of every tongue. 

Meanwhile, Claudia, living in widowhood and seclusion, 
learned all of Bee’s transatlantic triumphs through the “ court 
circulars” and 'fashionable intelligence” pf the English pa- 


496 


self-eaised; or, from the depths. 

pers; and through the gossiping foreign letter writers of the 
New York journals; all of which in a morbid curiosity she took, 
and in a self -tormenting spirit studied. In what bitterness of 
soul she read of all these triumphs! This was exactly what 
she had marked out for herself, when she sold her soul to the 
fiend, in becoming the wife of Lord Vincent! And how the 
fiend had cheated her! Here she was at an obscure country 
house, wearing out the days of her youth in hopeless widow- 
hood and loneliness. This splendid career of Bee was the very 
thing to attain which she had sacrificed the struggling young 
lawyer, and taken the noble viscount. And now it was that 
very young lawyer who introduced his bride to all these tri- 
umphs; while that very viscount had left her to a widowhood 
of obscurity and reproach! In eagerly, recklessly, sinfuUy 
snatching at these social honors she had lost them all, while 
Bee, without seeking or desiring them, by simply walking for- 
ward in her path of love and duty, had found them in her way. 
But for her own wicked pride and mental short-sightedness, 
she might be occupying that very station now so gracefully 
adorned by Bee. 

What a lesson it was ! Claudia bowed her haughty head and 
took it well to heart. ^^It is bitter, it is bitter; but it is just, 
and I accept it. I will learn of it. I cannot be happy; but I 
can be dutiful. I have but my father left in this world. I will 
devote myself to him and to God,” she said, and she kept her 
word. 

There is one incident in the travels of Ishmael and Bee that 
should be recorded here, since it concerns a lady( ?) that figured 
rather conspicuously in this history. The young pair were at 
Cameron Court, on a visit to the Countess of Hurstmonceux 
and Mr. Brudenell, whom they found enjoying much calm do- 
mestic happiness. Making Cameron Court their headquart"*s, 
Ishmael and Bee went on many excursions through the country 
and visited many interesting places. Among the rest, they in- 
spected the model Reformatory Female Prison at Ballmdrnock. 
While they were going through one of the workrooms. Bee sud- 
denly pressed her husband’s arm and whispered: 

Ishmael, dear, observe that poor young woman sitting there 
binding shoes. How pretty and lady-like she seems, to be 
in such a place as this, poor thing ! ” 

Ishmael looked as desired; and at the same moment the fe- 
male prisoner raised her head; and their eyes met. 


CONCLUSION. 497 

Come away, Bee, my darling,” said Ishmael, suddenly turn- 
his wife around and leading her from the room. 

“ She really seemed to know you, Ishmael,” said Bee, as they 
left the prison. 

“ She did, love ; it was Mrs. Dugald.” 

Bee’s blue eyes opened wide, in wonder and sorrow, and she 
walked on in silence and in thought. 

Yes, the female prisoner, in the coarse gray woolen gown and 
close white linen cap, who sat on the wooden bench binding 
shoes, was Katie’s “ whited sepulcher.” She had been sent first 
to the Bridewell, where for a few days she had been very vio- 
lent and ungovernable, but she soon learned that her best 
interests lay in submission; and for months afterwards she be- 
haved so well that at length she was sent to the milder Beforma- 
tory, to work out her ten years of penal servitude. Here she 
was supplied with food, clothing, and shelter — all of a good, 
coarse, substantial sort. But she was compelled to work very 
steadily all the week, and to hear two good sermons on Sunday, 
and as she had never in her life before enjoyed such excellent 
moral training as this, let us hope that the Reformatory really 
reformed her. 

Ishmael and Bee returned home in the early autumn. Al- 
most immediately upon his arrival in Washington, Ishmael was 
made district attorney. The emoluments of this office, added 
to the income from his private practice, brought him in a 
revenue that justified him in taking an elegant little suburban 
villa, situated within its own beautiful grounds and within an 
easy distance from his office. Here he lived with Bee, as happy, 
and making her as happy, as they both deserved to be. 

It was in the third winter of Claudia’s widowhood that the 
health of her father began to fail. A warmer climate was 
re ^mmended to him as the only condition of his prolonged life. 
He went to Cuba, attended by Claudia, now his devoted nurse. 
In that more genial atmosphere his health improved so much 
that he entered moderately into the society of the capital, and 
renewed some of his old acquaintance. He found that Philip 
Tourneysee had succeeded at last in winning the heart of the 
pretty Creole widow, Senora Donna Eleanora Pacheco, to 
whom he had been married a year. He met again that magnifi- 
cent old grandee of Castile, Senor Don Filipo Martinez, Mar- 
quis de la Santo Espirito, who at first sight became an ardent 
admirer of Claudia, and the more the Castilian nobleman saw 


498 self-baised; or, from the depths. 

of this pale pensive beauty, the more he admired her; and the 
more he observed her devotion to her father, the more he es- 
teemed her. At length he formally proposed to her and was ac- 
cepted. And at about the same time the marquis received the 
high official appointment he had been so long expecting. Clau- 
dia, in marrying him, became the wife of the Captain General 
of Cuba, and the first lady on the island. But, mark you ! she 
had not sought nor expected this distinction. She simply found 
it in the performance of her duties ; and if she did not love her 
stately husband with the ardor of her youth, she admired and 
revered him. In his private life she made him a good wife ; in 
his public career an intelligent counselor; in everything a 
faithful companion. Judge Merlin spent all his winters with 
them in Havana; and all his summers at Tanglewood, taken 
care of by Katie. 

A few words about the other characters of our story. 

Old Mrs. Brudenell and her daughters vegetated on at Bru- 
denell Hall, in a monotony that was broken by only three in- 
cidents in as many years. The first was the death of poor 
Eleanor, whose worthless husband had died of excess some 
months before ; the second incident was the marriage of Eliza- 
beth Brudenell to the old pastor of her parish, who repented of 
his celibacy because he had become infirm, and took a wife be- 
cause he required a nurse; and the third was the visit of the 
Countess of Hurstmonceux and Mr. Brudenell, who came and 
spent a few months among their friends in America, and then 
returned to their delightful home in Scotland. 

The Middletons continued to live at The Beacon, but every 
winter they spent a month at The Bee-Hive, which was the 
name of the Worths’ villa; and every summer Ishmael, Bee, and 
their lovely little daughter, Kora, passed a few weeks amid the 
invigorating sea-breezes at The Beacon. 

The professor lived with Ishmael, in the enjoyment of a vig- 
orous and happy old age. 

Eeuben and Hannah Gray continued to reside at Woodside, 
cultivating the Tanglewood estate and bringing up their two 
children. 

Alfred Burghe was cashiered for conduct unworthy of an 
officer and a gentleman,” as the charge against him on his trial 
set forth; and he and his brother have passed into forgetful- 
ness. 

Sally and Jim were united, of course, and lived as servants at 


coisrcLusioN. 499 

Tanglewood, -where old Katie, as housekeeper, reigned su- 
preme. 

What else? 

Ishmael loved, prayed, and worked — ^worked more than ever, 
for he knew that though it was hard to win, it was harder to 
secure fame. He went on from success to success. He be- 
came illustrious. 


THE ENSu 




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